Nelson Mandela: South Africans on what Madiba means to them
http://www.theguardian.com/world/2013/dec/14/nelson-mandela-south-africans-madiba-means-to-them Version 0 of 1. <strong>'I saw him as a father figure': Nozolile Mtirara, Mqhekezweni, Eastern Cape</strong> A 92-year-old woman sits calmly on a plastic chair in the garden of one of the few plastered houses in this village in the countryside of the Eastern Cape region. "I've always seen Mandela as a father figure, since the first time we met," she says. In 1945, Nozolile Mtirara married the cousin and childhood friend of Mandela, Justice Mtirara, and moved to Mqhekezweni, the village where Mandela had spent most of his childhood under the guardianship of the local regent, Justice's father, Chief Jongintaba Dalindyebo. "Justice and Nelson Mandela were very close. He and my husband grew up together, and did everything together," she remembers, pointing at a series of green cottages in the garden. The last one, now empty, used to be shared by Mandela and Justice. Their bond was so close that, when they discovered the chief had arranged a double wedding for them, the boys fled to Johannesburg together in 1941. "They sold two of the chief's cows to a white guy to fund their trip. The chief had to go and buy them back." A year later, Mandela was forgiven by the chief, who died not long after. Returning to Mqhekezweni for the funeral, Justice decided to settle there and marry Nozolile. The paths of the two friends diverged. When Justice died in 1974, Mandela was in Robben Island. When he was released from prison in 1990, Nozolile met him for the first time. "My house was built by him, as a thanksgiving for having spent his childhood here," she says. "The Mandelas treat me as part of their family. "I am sure he will go straight to heaven, after all the good work he did for this country," she says, with a peaceful smile on her face. <strong>'We are not equal under the law': Vusimuzi Ngcobo, Walter Sisulu Square, Kliptown </strong> "Steve Biko would have been the real leader of South Africa, but he was uncompromising towards the apartheid regime. That's why they killed him and let Mandela live. Biko was saying blacks had to be proud of their accent, their origins and their skins," Vusimuzi Ngcobo says, referring to the leader of the Black Consciousness Movement, who was arrested, tortured and killed in police custody in September 1977. With almost all the ANC leaders arrested or in exile, at that time Biko was one of the main voices opposing the apartheid regime. His message is still cherished by many young black South Africans unsatisfied by the state of the country and the ANC leadership, who are accused of having left the economy in white hands in exchange for political power. Ngcobo, 26, shares a room with his mother, five sisters and his two-year-old daughter. A board member of a local youth organisation, Ngcobo acts as a guide for the tourists coming to visit Walter Sisulu Square, the location where, on 26 June 1955, 3,000 delegates adopted the Freedom Charter, a manifesto calling for a non-racist, democratic and equal South Africa, which is still the backbone of the ANC ideology. A chimney-like structure has been erected to celebrate the adoption of the 10-point manifesto, which Ngcobo calls a wish list. "Most of the principles written here have not been upheld," he says angrily. "We are not equal under the law. President Jacob Zuma just spent 200m rand (£12m) to upgrade his house in Nkandla, while his fellow villagers still have to fetch water from the river." His views are shared by many South Africans who lament the high levels of corruption, unemployment, economic disparity and illiteracy. "I don't blame Mandela for these problems. He made a lot of sacrifices for this country. But many of us feel that apartheid has continued." Ngcobo maintains that, with a more uncompromising leader, things might be better now. <strong>'A part of this place will die with him': Isaac Mangena, Alexandra township, Johannesburg </strong> Isaac Mangena, 35, a human rights agency spokesman, can't hide his emotion. "People in Alexandra feel they own a 'share' of Mandela. A part of Alexandra will die with him." Alexandra was the first place Mandela settled when he arrived in town in 1941. It was here that, on 11 February 1990, Mangena heard that Mandela would be freed from prison. Due to an information blackout, Mangena, who was 16 at the time, had never seen Mandela before. "It was like talking about Jesus," he says, adding that he started believing the news only after seeing cars carrying banned ANC flags. On one of the most memorable days of his life, Mangena and his fellow students decided to celebrate at a nearby university. The joy was so overwhelming that "neither me nor my friends passed our exams that year. But nobody cared about studying at that time." <strong>'I never regretted joining the armed struggle': Thulani Mabaso, Robben Island</strong> "We all played our part, from the families who lost husbands and children, to the guys who died or were disabled in the struggle. There were many Nelson Mandelas in our history." The tall figure of Thulani Mabaso, 50, sits before the grey cliffs of Robben Island, the infamous prison-turned-museum off the coast of Cape Town where he works as a guide. In 1981, Mabaso was sentenced to 18 years in prison for setting up a mine that wounded 57 people at the Defence Force building in Johannesburg. Mabaso was then a member of Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC. "I could have killed people, if I had wanted to. But our goal was to make a statement." Mabaso spent seven years in Robben Island with Mandela, and was one of the last prisoners to be released in 1991. Arriving at Cape Town harbour in the first days of July, he was taken to Durban, where the unbanned ANC was having its first national congress in 32 years. "Nelson Mandela had wanted me there," he reveals proudly. "He greeted me warmly, before introducing me to all the party leadership. It was a great moment." When he was eight, Mabaso's family was forcibly removed from a village in KwaZulu-Natal and moved into an arid township, where eight families had to share a shanty house made of asbestos. At school, there was one textbook for 80 pupils. "All our chickens and goats had been confiscated. We had to sleep on the floor. My grandfather was moaning all the time. Finally he had a heart attack and died." Working at Robben Island can be punishing. "I still have nightmares," he confesses. "But I never regretted my decision to join the armed struggle. Life under apartheid was bad." <strong>'It's not easy to meet white people': Promise Shezi, Ohlange high school, Inanda, KwaZulu-Natal</strong><br /> The building where Mandela cast his vote on 27 April 1994, in South Africa's first democratic elections, is now a museum inside Ohlange high school in Inanda, KwaZulu-Natal. For 19-year-old Promise Shezi, a friendly schoolgirl, being close to a historical landmark is a source of constant inspiration. "I feel so proud to study in the same place where Madiba cast his vote," she says. "When I heard he was hospitalised, I cried together with my mother." Shezi comes from Pinetown, a nearby suburb close to Durban. She lives with her mother and two brothers, aged 17 and 10. Shezi's dream is to become a teacher, a job she thinks will help her bridge the gap to other South African communities. "I'd like to have white friends; the problem is it is not easy to meet them where I live. I wouldn't even rule out having a white boyfriend," she laughs. <strong>'Under apartheid, our relationship would have been illegal': Jeremy Papier, Cape Town city hall </strong> Papier is a 32-year-old DJ from Cape Town. On 11 February 1990, he was in front of the city hall when Mandela delivered his first speech as a free man. The square was swamped with people waving ANC flags: for many, it was the first time they'd seen Mandela. "I was nine, too young to understand what was going on, but I could feel the energy. People were dancing, shouting and going crazy. I remember my father saying, 'Something very important is going on.' It wasn't until high school that I realised the importance of what I had witnessed." Papier's fiancee is Mia Everson, a white Afrikaner; under apartheid, their union would have been illegal. That's why, in his DJ sets, he sometimes uses phrases from that Mandela speech. "I like the part when he addressed South Africa and the world, pleading allegiance to the country. It is so powerful. I like to play it and see people's reactions. It warms my heart." <strong>'Madiba told us to forgive our oppressors': Thembeni Sibeko, Regina Mundi church, Soweto</strong> "I remember the day of the protests. It was hell. The boys were burning shops belonging to whites. The wounded students were brought inside the church." Wrapped in a blanket with the colours of South Africa, today 63-year-old Thembeni Sibeko spends her days collecting alms for Regina Mundi, the biggest church in Soweto, the sprawling township complex just outside Johannesburg. But in 1976, during the student uprising against the compulsory use of the Afrikaans language in schools, she was a 26-year-old woman living beside the church, in front of which most of the protesters had gathered. At least 176 people died following the police crackdown, which marked a decisive turn in the struggle against apartheid. "Some families never got the bodies back. There are mothers who still don't know what happened to their kids," Sibeko says. In 1995, a few months after being elected president, Mandela paid a surprise visit to Regina Mundi during a Sunday mass. Sibeko was there. "He told us to forgive our oppressors, which I did," she says. "I pray for them every day. May God have mercy on them." <strong>'People are losing hope': Mpoh Pebane, Mediclinic hospital, Pretoria</strong> Every day after Mandela was taken to hospital (in June 2013), a small, bald figure visited the hospital at night after work. "I'd say a small prayer and go home," says Mpoh Pebane, a 45-year-old doctor living in a nearby suburb. "Sometimes I'd bring my two kids here. I'd tell them it's because of him that today we can live where we live." Originally from Bochabela, a township close to the city of Bloemfontein, Pebane says, "I've always admired his humanity, openness and forgiveness. Few humans have these traits." He looks at the thousands of photos, candles, letters and thoughts people have left. "We need a person of his calibre," he says. An ANC member since 2010, Pebane feels the ideals Mandela fought for have been betrayed by the current party leaders. "Poor are getting poorer, and rich are getting richer. People are losing hope." <strong>'The government is implementing a form of reverse racism': Cornel Van Heerden, Ellis Park Stadium, Johannesburg</strong><br /> Despite Mandela's efforts to bridge the gap between communities in South Africa, the country is still racially divided; sporting events are one of the few occasions when blacks and whites mingle. In June 1995, Mandela reached out to white South Africans by embracing the rugby World Cup, a traditionally white sport, being played in South Africa. "During that World Cup it felt as if we were all together," says Cornel Van Heerden, 28, a well-built Afrikaner. "I wouldn't have liked to live under apartheid, without all my black friends." Van Heerden, who was nine when apartheid ended, doesn't feel any personal guilt for it. On the contrary, he is opposed to the affirmative action laws. "The government is implementing a form of reverse racism," he says. "We young people who didn't take part in apartheid, it leaves a bad taste in our mouth." Our editors' picks for the day's top news and commentary delivered to your inbox each morning. |