Conversations with Myself (13 page)

18. FROM HIS UNPUBLISHED AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MANUSCRIPT WRITTEN IN PRISON

A man who rises to the position of premier in any country must be a man of ability, forceful personality and uprightness in his public life. (d) Even making allowances for all that behind-the-scenes manoeuvres and pulling of strings, enough funds to run campaigns and to secure the support of influential individuals and propaganda agencies I believe that [Prime Minister] B.J. Vorster is on merit a man deserving the highest honours in so far as white conservative politics are concerned.
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(e) His treasonable activities during the Second World War and his internment marked him as a man of strong beliefs prepared to fight for them even when he is in a minority and to pay the penalty for them. (f) In a democratic South Africa where all its people enjoy franchise rights there would be many men who would stand head and shoulders above him both in regard to personality and their views. Nevertheless, among whites as presently constituted he seems to stand out prominently.

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From a letter to Winnie Mandela, dated 2 April 1969

19. FROM A LETTER TO WINNIE MANDELA, DATED 2 APRIL 1969

A family photo at last! – ‘what a masterpiece’! Kgatho and sisters are terrific and it gave me such joy to see ma’s photo.
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Your small picture almost created an upheaval. ‘Ayingo Nobandla lo!’ ‘Is this not her younger sister!’ ‘Madiba has been long in jail,
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he does not know his sister-in-law,’ all these remarks were flung at me from all directions.

To me the portrait aroused mixed feelings. You look somewhat sad, absent-minded and unwell but lovely all the same. The big one is a magnificent study that depicts all I know in you, the devastating beauty and charm which 10 stormy years of married life have not chilled. I suspect that you intended the picture to convey a special message that no words could ever express. Rest assured I have caught it. All that I wish to say now is that the picture has aroused all the tender feelings in me and softened the grimness that is all around. It has sharpened my longing for you and our sweet and peaceful home.

These days my thoughts have wandered far and wide; to Hans St[reet] where a friend would jump into a blue van and unburden herself of all the solemn vows that are due from fiancée to her betrothed and immediately thereafter dash across to an Olds[mobile] on the opposite end of the block with vows equally sweet and reassuring; the skill with which she manipulated her evening ‘studies’ in Chancellor House and made it possible to receive and entertain old friends as soon as new ones proceeded to a boxing gym. All these have come back over and over again as I examine the portrait.

1. FROM A LETTER TO K D MATANZIMA, DATED 14 OCTOBER 1968, ABOUT THE DEATH OF MANDELA’S MOTHER
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I last saw my mother on September 9 last year. After the interview I was able to look at her as she walked away toward the boat that would take her to the mainland and somehow the idea crossed my mind that I would never again set my eyes on her. Her visits had always excited me and the news of her death hit me hard. I at once felt lonely and empty. But my friends here, whose sympathy and affection have always been a source of strength to me, helped to relieve my grief and to raise my spirits. The report on the funeral reinforced my courage. It was a pleasure for me to be informed that my relatives and friends had turned up in large numbers to honour the occasion with their presence and was happy to be able to count you amongst those who paid their last respects.

2. FROM A LETTER TO P K MADIKIZELA, DATED 4 MAY 1969
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I had never dreamt that I would never be able to bury ma. On the contrary, I had entertained the hope that I would have the privilege of looking after her in her old age, and be on her side when the fatal hour struck. Zami and I had tried hard to persuade her to come and live with us in Johannesburg, pointing out that she would be nearer Baragwanath Hospital which would ensure for her regular and proper medical attention, and that moving to the Reef would enable Zami to give her effective and all-round attention. I further discussed the matter with ma when she visited me on 6/3/66 and again on 9/9/67. But she spent all her life in the countryside and became attached to its plains and hills, to its fine people and simple ways. Although she had spent some years in Johannesburg, she found it very difficult to leave the home and the family graves. Though I fully appreciated her views and feelings I still hoped I might eventually succeed in persuading her to go up [to Johannesburg].

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The first page of one of Mandela’s prison correspondence journals.

3. FROM A LETTER TO HIS DAUGHTERS ZENI AND ZINDZI MANDELA, THEN AGED NINE AND TEN, DATED 23 JUNE 1969

Once again our beloved Mummy has been arrested and now she and Daddy are away in jail. My heart bleeds as I think of her sitting in some police cell far away from home, perhaps alone and without anybody to talk to, and with nothing to read.
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Twenty-four hours of the day longing for her little ones. It may be many months or even years before you see her again. For long you may live like orphans without your own home and parents, without the natural love, affection and protection Mummy used to give you. Now you will get no birthday or Christmas parties, no presents or new dresses, no shoes or toys. Gone are the days when, after having a warm bath in the evening, you would sit at table with Mummy and enjoy her good and simple food. Gone are the comfortable beds, the warm blankets and clean linen she used to provide. She will not be there to arrange for friends to take you to bioscopes, concerts and plays, or to tell you nice stories in the evening, help you read difficult books and to answer the many questions you would like to ask. She will be unable to give you the help and guidance you need as you grow older and as new problems arise. Perhaps never again will Mummy and Daddy join you in House no. 8115 Orlando West, the one place in the whole world that is so dear to our hearts.

This is not the first time Mummy goes to jail. In October 1958, only four months after our wedding, she was arrested with 2000 other women when they protested against passes in Johannesburg and spent two weeks in jail. Last year she served four days, but now she has gone back again and I cannot tell you how long she will be away this time. All that I wish you always to bear in mind is that we have a brave and determined Mummy who loves her people with all her heart. She gave up pleasure and comfort in return for a life full of hardship and misery because of the deep love she has for her people and country. When you become adults and think carefully of the unpleasant experiences Mummy has gone through, and the stubbornness with which she has held to her beliefs, you will begin to realise the importance of her contribution in the battle for truth and justice and to the extent to which she has sacrificed her own personal interests and happiness…Since then Mummy has lived a painful life and had to try and run a home without a fixed income. Yet she somehow managed to buy you food and clothing, pay your school fees, rent for the house and to send me money regularly. I left home in April 1961 when Zeni was two years and Zindzi three months. Early in January 1962 I toured Africa and visited London for ten days, returned to South Africa towards the end of July the same year. I was terribly shaken when I met Mummy. I had left her in good health with a lot of flesh and colour. But she had suddenly lost weight and was now a shadow of her former self. I realised at once the strain my absence had caused her. I looked forward to some time when I would be able to tell her about my journey, the countries I visited and the people I met. But my arrest on August 5 put an end to that dream. When Mummy was arrested in 1958 I visited her daily and brought her food and fruits…She told me [during a visit to him in custody in 1962] that although she would most probably be arrested and sent to jail, as every politician fighting for freedom must expect, she would nevertheless remain in the country and suffer with her people. Do you see now what a brave Mummy we have?

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From a letter to his daughters Zeni and Zindzi Mandela, dated 23 June 1969
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From a letter to Winnie Mandela, dated 16 July 1969, about his son Thembi’s death
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