491 Days
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Incidentally, I was told that you and your colleagues now enjoy better privileges. I asked for more details and was shocked to learn that even after you had been formally charged you were not allowed a change of clothing and food from outside. How can any honest and intelligent person justify this barbarism? To the best of my knowledge and belief, as an awaiting-trial prisoner you are entitled to clean garments and to food from relations and friends. These are not privileges but legal rights. The tragedy of the whole situation is the blissful ignorance on the part of the officials concerned of the implications of the offensive utterances they often make. I deeply resent to be told of so-called concessions which are invariably made so late in the day and which are so trivial as to cause more harm and bitterness than gratitude and appreciation.
But your marvellous letter! There are moments in the life of every couple that are not easily forgotten and the occasions you describe so feelingly, I recall with equal affection and I always think of them. The information on Zeni and Zindzi’s manners and tastes interested me much. I should like to know more about them, and it will be a real joy for me when I break through and succeed in establishing contact with them. By the way, the other day I was reading the terrific telegram you sent 2 years ago on the occasion of my 50th birthday. It dawned on me that it will not be long before I become elder, the highest title which even ordinary men acquire by virtue of advanced age. Then it will be quite appropriate for me to purchase some measure of corpulence to bloat my dignity and give due weight to what I say. If obesity were my dream, I would have all the means of fulfilment at my disposal. To be able to swing my own pot belly all I need to do is take things easy and pack my wretched stomach with carbohydrates – mealie-pap at sunrise, mealies for lunch and mealie-pap at supper. But the trouble is your letters. They form a solid wall between me and senility. After reading one of them the natural processes seem reversed, and I am never certain whether I’m ageing or rejuvenating. The latter feeling appears dominant.
How I long for Amasi,221 thick and sour! You know, darling, there is one respect in which I dwarf all my contemporaries or at least about which I can confidently claim to be second to none – a healthy appetite. There was a time when I could polish off enormous quantities of food in any order. I could start with pudding backwards and feel just as happy and contented at the end of it all. I well remember the painful remarks of a housewife who was also medical student at the time. She and hubby had invited me for dinner one day. I had built quite some formidable reputation as a meat eater. After watching my performance for some time as the heavily laden dishes on the table rapidly vanished one after the other, and I concentrating more especially on the meat, she decided to share with me the benefit of her immense learning. Bluntly she told me I would die of coronary thrombosis probably in my early forties. I was foolish enough to challenge her statement, and tried to support my argument with the sweeping declaration that thrombosis was unknown amongst our forefathers in spite of the fact that they were great meat-eaters; whereupon she promptly produced a huge textbook out of which she read out emphatically and deliberately the relevant passage. It was a galling experience. I almost immediately felt a million pains in the region of my heart. That tip, raw and tactless as I was, made me cautious, and although I still relished meat I reduced its consumption. But my appetite was still as sharp as ever and I did not lose my colours as hero in this field. I long for the wonderful meals you could prepare so carefully at home, putting your whole heart into it – fresh homemade bread, macaroni with mince meat, egg and cheese, ox tongue and tail; chops; liver and steak, porridge and honey with the high flavour that was always mixed with your dishes. Above all I long for Amasi – the food for which I loved to sharpen my teeth and to stretch out my tummy, the act that I really enjoyed, that went straight into my blood and into my heart and that produced perfect contentment. A human being, whatever his colour may be, whether he lives under a regime of Christians, Pharisees, hypocrites, heathens, or those who chose to flirt openly with the devil, ought never to be compelled toward the taking of meals as a duty. This is likely to be the case if the product is poor, monotonous, badly prepared and tasteless. If I can only have Amasi. You remember how we carried a calabash [on our] way back from Mbongweni. What a lovely trip, Mhlope! I’m sure we will do it again.
In the meantime I know that your courage will rise with danger and that you’ll fight with all your might. Fight, as your gallant forefathers did from the Zuurveld to Ngwavuma, from Nxuba Ntaba Busuku, the Lulu to the land of Nyabela. Fight as worthy heirs of Mafukuzela, Seme, Makgatho, Rubusana and the constellation of heroes that have defended the birthright of our people. This Sept. 26 will be your second birthday in jail. May the next one find you free and happy. My warmest congrats! I think of you always, Ngutyana. I will join battle and do my best when counsel calls.
A million kisses and tons and tons of love to you.
Devotedly
Dalibunga
LETTER FROM NELSON MANDELA
TO HIS SON MAKGATHO MANDELA
August 31, 1970
Heit my Bla,
I don’t know whether I should address you as son, mninawa or, as we would say in the lingo, my (pronounced meyi) sweet brigade. The bond of parent and child that has kept us together for 2 decades gradually weakens as you grow full size, whilst that of friendship becomes stronger and deeper. I’m beginning to see in you an intimate colleague with whom I can discuss hopes and despairs, setbacks and achievements, one with whom I can chat as an equal; to whom I can open my heart. It is to such a friend that I now write; to you Lewanika, my bla, as the guys up on the Rand would put it. To you I can write freely and forget about formal or elevated language.
You must be frightfully busy; I have not heard from you these past 7 months. I know you’ll write as soon as you can. I should have liked to leave you alone, but I long for you and am anxious to hear how you are getting on. What is even more important is that this September 8th you will turn 20 and that alone is sufficient excuse for me to intrude. Naturally, it will not be possible for me or Mummy to be at home to organise a birthday party, give you our warmest love and special wishes, to sit round the family table and feast, sing merrily, tell stories and rejoice with you with a full heart. But we will be thinking of you. The family is very proud of you and watches your progress with real interest. May good things come to you, fortune and the best of health and achievement. I hope you now received the card that contains our greetings and good wishes.
I have been reminiscing a great deal these days and events from the past in which you prominently featured come to mind – active moments in the gymnasium with Jerry Moloi, Simon Tshabalala (He was brutally tortured by the Security Police in 1964 resulting in the breaking down of his health.), Joe Motsepe, Joe Mokotedi, Eric Ntsele, Freddie Ngidi, Selby Msimang and other wonderful boys; the pennies we spent to provide you with the pleasure of swimming at the Huddlestone Pool, accompanying Nyanya to see the presentation of King Kong at Milner Park, the amount of fish you consumed as we travelled together from Qamata to Johannesburg and legions of other episodes. I remember all these as if they occurred only the other day. Those were the days when you lived a happy life free of problems and fenced from all hardships and insecurity by parental love. You did not work, grub was galore, clothing was plentiful and you slept good. But some of your playmates those days roamed around completely naked and dirty because their parents were too poor to dress them and to keep them clean. Often you brought them home and gave them food. Sometimes you went away with double the amount of swimming fees to help a needy friend. Perhaps then you acted purely out of a child’s affection for a friend, and not because you had become consciously aware of the extremes of wealth and poverty that characterised our social life. I hope you’re still as keen today to help those who are hard-hit by want as you were then. It’s a good thing to help a friend whenever you can; but individual acts of hospitality are not the answer. Those who want to wipe out poverty from the face of
the earth must use other weapons, weapons other than kindness. There are millions of poverty-stricken and illiterate people, masses of unemployed people, men and women who are grossly underpaid, who live in dirty and overcrowded dwellings, who feed mainly on dikgobe, papa, mngusho, motoho and marhewu, whose children never drink milk and who are exposed to all sorts of disease.
This is not a problem that can be handled by individual acts of hospitality. The man who attempted to use his own possessions to help all the needy would be permanently ruined and in due course himself live on alms. Experience shows that this problem can be effectively tackled only by a disciplined body of persons, who are inspired by the same ideas and united in a common cause. Most of us never had the opportunities which are enjoyed by the present youth – a wide variety of progressive literature dealing with man’s struggle to master nature’s physical resources; the immortal classics that stress, on the one hand, the dependence of human beings upon one another, and on the other hand, the social conflicts that flow from distinctive interests, that split society into various strata. I was almost 35 when I began reading works of this nature systematically, and what a difference it brought to my own outlook! You appear more militant and a better democrat than I was at your age and hope you’ll be selective in your readings. We shall discuss the letter more fully on your next visit. In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy ‘And Quiet Flows the Don’ by Sholokhov. Did Tellie get her letter of March 6, 1970? I also wrote [to] you [on] 31.3.70 and to Maki on 1.5.70. Once again, hearty congrats on your 20th birthday. Keep den 8115 safe and clean.
Affectionately,
Tata
LETTER FROM NELSON MANDELA
TO THE MINISTER OF JUSTICE
14th September 1970
My wife was detained on May 12, 1969 and has been in custody ever since.
I last saw her in December 1968. Twice after her arrest, I asked the Commissioner of Prisons to make arrangements for me to meet her. The second application was made after I had received information that she had been hospitalised as a result of deteriorating health. Both applications were refused. I now make a special appeal to you to approve the request.
There are important and urgent domestic problems which we cannot properly solve without coming together. In examining the matter you will bear in mind that there is nothing in the law or administration of justice to preclude me as husband from having consultations with her while she is facing trial, political or otherwise. On the contrary, it is my duty to give her all the help that she requires. The fact that I am a prisoner ought not of itself to deprive me of the opportunity of honouring the obligations that I owe her. You will also bear in mind that she has been in custody for more than 15 months, 10 of which were spent in solitary confinement – a frightful experience which must have been primarily responsible for the worsening of her condition. I sincerely believe that the pleasure she would derive from a meeting between us would induce a speedy and complete recovery, and put her in a better position to stand trial.
In considering both applications, General Steyn failed to show that high sense of values and human feeling that I have come to associate with him as an individual during the last 8 years. I am willing to hope that you, as the executive head of the Department of Justice, are well instructed in the principle of rightness and equity and not to turn a deaf ear to this appeal, and that the whole bent of your mind will be used to uphold those virtues that your office symbolises.
(Signed) NRD Mandela
Nelson Mandela: 466/64
LETTER FROM NELSON MANDELA
TO WINNIE MANDELA
October 1, 1970
My Darling,
A respite at last! I received your unexpected telegram in which you informed me of your release. I am sure you were as surprised to be acquitted as I was when I received the wonderful news. I should have liked to reply also by telegram immediately upon receiving yours, but these conveniences are not available for me even on so important occasion as an acquittal on a capital charge. I had to wait for 2 weeks before I could send you my warmest congratulations for serving 491, and still emerge the lively girl you are, and in high spirits.
To you and your determined friends I say welcome back! Were I at home when you returned I should have stolen a white goat from a rich man, slaughtered it and given you ivanya ne ntloya to down it. Only in this way can a beggar like myself fete and honour his heroes.
You are back and in accordance with my promise I bid good-bye to ‘dadewethu’ and return to ‘My darling’, to you dear Mhlope. This is the salutation I have used since Aug. ’62, and I regretted it much when I had to abandon it.
Now that you are back I long for you even much more than I did when you were in. I fought hard to see you in the knowledge that such a meeting would do you a lot of good. But I did so also to save myself from catastrophe. There were times when I felt and responded like one in whom something had suddenly snapped. I could hardly concentrate and the picture of you rotting away in some dingy and isolated apartment with nothing to read and nobody to whom you might talk was unbearable. Your release relieved me, but it worsened my pining. I can no longer wait. I want to see you badly; it is now my turn to shrink to a size less than that of Zeni. When will you come? How I wish I could have a contact visit, where I could hug you, feel the warmth of your blood, smile straight into your eyes, chat to you normally without having to shout before I could be heard, as happens at present.
I long to see you in a peaceful and decent atmosphere, as a man and wife should when discussing tender domestic affairs after a separation of almost 2 years. But those who bear the cross ought never to squeal if the going is uphill, and I shan’t. How is your health? Have you seen Zeni and Zindzi? What news will you bring me?
Incidentally, several hours before I received your exciting message I had handed in a letter addressed to the Minister of Justice asking him to allow us to meet. I imagine me still fighting long after the battle had been won. If your plea had been dismissed by the court and my application to the Minister refused, I would probably have appealed to a bone-thrower, or beseeched the Divinitus or turned to Marx. Luckily I did not have to choose between these alternatives.
I was sorry to learn that Ramotse remained behind. May he also have luck when the case goes to trial.
You have heard by now that our friend Mr Denis Healey, accompanied by the British ambassador, saw me on Sept. 19. I was pleased to see him again. He told me that you had paid a visit to Helen222 and Shanti.223 He also told me that that evening you would attend a ball given in his honour. I was very happy to hear this because after the ugly experience you had recently, you need relaxation and a lot of fun. Do enjoy yourself but beware of sprees if you can. It is a strange coincidence that you should have chosen to visit the Josephs and the Naidoos at the moment when they were very much in my thoughts.
I wish you had met Shanti’s father, Naran, a courageous person who was widely known for his dedication and simplicity. We were arrested together in June 1950 and detained for some hours before we were released. When we reached their Doornfontein residence we were hungry and tired. Amma, wearing that free and easy smile of hers, presented us with a meal of crab and rice. It was my first time to see these creatures cooked, and the mere sight of them made me sick and everything inside me – my gizzard included – began protesting violently. You know, darling, that I never give up easily on such matters. I tried to be as graceful as was possible in the circumstances and even dared to chew 1 leg or 2. It was a delicate adventure. Thereafter I became much attached to the Naidoos and enjoyed crabs very much.
Shanti was then a mere nipper. I was to see her grow into a fearless girl who followed closely on the father’s footsteps. But I never suspected that she had such strength of character, pluck and endurance.
As for our friend, Helen, I believe she is one woman who would continue to swing the sword even beyond the grave; that is if death allows her victims freedom to engage in these posthumous activities. With her back
ground, qualifications, social status and opportunities she hardly had any reason to ruin her brilliant career by following the course she chose. She had the franchise, could belong to any respectable party and express herself freely on any public questions. Only a highly principled person, completely dedicated to the ideals of freedom would make this fatal decision. I have the highest regard for her. She certainly will be one of the very first persons I shall visit when I return, just as you and Nomvula did the day after your release. She can dish out and take punches, and I’m sure she will still be slogging it out when the people of S.A of all races lay her remains to eternal rest. Give her, Amma and Shanti my warmest love . . .
Darling, your friends have impressed me tremendously. I was not the least surprised by David, Elliot, Mqwati, Rita, Douglas, Thoko, Martha, and Livingstone. One day I shall have the opportunity of hearing something on Samson, Jackson, Nomvula, Paulos, Joseph, David Dalton, Victor, George, Joseph Chamberlain, Simon, Owen and Samuel and Peter. Fondest regards to them all. I’m proud of you darling and you are more to me than all the world. I expect wonderful stories from you when I return home. One day we will pack up. Then we will be free from the troubles of this world.