Working with World Leaders
Although Madiba appeared healthy and strong, he was not. In July 2001 he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. One afternoon after having his lunch at home, he called me to his house and I could hear that there was seriousness in his voice. I had forgotten about the medical tests a few weeks earlier. I rushed over and found him in his usual comfy chair reading papers with his greeting smile as usual. He said: ‘Zeldina, sit down.’ Which I did. And then he said, ‘Now you know we’ve been for tests the last couple of weeks. I don’t want you to be alarmed but we have prostate cancer.’ The way he delivered the news made me want to laugh and cry, all at once. By now he knew me so well and knew that I would never say anything disrespecting him, but he also knew my sense of humour. I replied: ‘Khulu, oh no. I am so incredibly sorry to hear that but I am sure you are going to have the best treatment possible . . .’ He smiled and was appreciative, and then I said, ‘. . . but I have to tell you we cannot have prostate cancer.’ He laughed and then explained the treatment to follow. It was so considerate of him to share his condition with me before he went public with it, and it really showed me that he knew how much I cared for him.
He could never speak in singular terms or in the first person. He could never speak of ‘me’ or ‘I’. It was part of the humble man that he was and everything included everyone around him. It was also part of the collectiveness of the ANC which was imprinted upon him while incarcerated. He was determined that the cancer was merely a little stumbling block that we would overcome in no time. He instructed me to call a press conference where he and Dr Mike Plit, his physician, would explain the situation and treatment to follow. He always insisted on being extremely open about his health or any medical condition. The next day he started with radiotherapy which continued daily for six weeks. By the second or third week he was losing strength and I was extremely worried about him. I stopped going to the oncology centre with him and Mrs Machel, as it was hard for me to see. She was there every step of the way and they grounded themselves in Johannesburg to slow down the pace and give him time to recover from the treatment. He was OK but stressed from going to the clinic every day.
People prayed and sent good wishes daily. We were inundated with well wishers and that posed its own challenges. The heading of the daily newspaper in Johannesburg, The Star, read on 24 July 2001, MANDELA HAS CANCER. LOW GRADE PROSTATE MALIGNANCY SHOULDN’T SHORTEN LIFE SPAN, and it didn’t. I am convinced today that the butterfly effect had a lot to do with his healing. All the prayers and good wishes, the positive thoughts from the public and the complete outpouring of love, in addition to God’s grace, of course, is what healed him. Although we didn’t travel he insisted that his schedule continue as usual during his six weeks of radiation therapy. He would have appointments in the morning and only go to the clinic early afternoon. After about four weeks we had to simply lighten his work burden as he was becoming tired and worn out, no matter how much he wanted to push forward. He had no particular focus at work and his appointments were really to ensure that he didn’t feel isolated while receiving treatment.
Madiba and Mrs Machel needed a holiday after the treatment was completed. The question was, where do we take him? It felt like there was nowhere in South Africa, and in fact nowhere in the world (barring North Korea), where they could have peace and quiet. But we did find a solution. Madiba and Mrs Machel were invited by Elitalia, Italy’s communication network, to visit Rome and Venice for a holiday the previous year and we decided to accept the offer. They didn’t have any expectations from Madiba and Mrs Machel but purely offered time to come and enjoy Italy. It worked out perfectly. Madiba got to see the Coliseum as they managed to close the entire site for a private tour for him. I was grateful for that because by then I realized that he was merely a prisoner in another life again. He couldn’t do the ordinary things we take for granted because he attracted too much attention in public. It was logistically impossible for him to move around without crowds following and people wanting to get close to him, take a picture, touch him, talk to him. While he didn’t mind attracting crowds it sometimes became too much.
He was not doing the ordinary things of life and the ordinary pleasures were limited for him. He spent so many years almost chained down by the determination of his own cause and working towards a better life for others, I wondered at what point he himself would stop and do something for himself. His was indeed a life of service. He did whatever he could always to the benefit of others. He was, however, happy when Mrs Machel was with him and that, at times, was enough for him. With her in our company we did many things that Madiba would never agree to if we were by ourselves. She managed to convince him to try the local cuisine and do touristy, normal things, such as take a tour through Venice on a boat. It was precious to see him trying his very best to be like a tourist. Our hosts were gracious and very respectful of Madiba’s privacy.
Soon afterwards we visited Los Angeles, where Madiba had hoped to raise some funds for the Foundation. Hollywood, it turned out, either wasn’t that generous at the time or not prepared for our visit. The only support we did get was from the people who were known to have supported the anti-apartheid struggle. Again I didn’t leave the hotel in fear that Madiba might need me and I missed really seeing Los Angeles. But our hotel rooms were beautiful. Sadly, some of the people who made huge promises to Madiba never fulfilled them.
On 11 September 2001 I was attending a course in Cape Town. Proceedings took longer than anticipated and when I arrived back at my parents’ house, where I was visiting, my dad told me that two planes had flown into the World Trade Center in New York. I watched the report on CNN and immediately called Madiba, as he was not accustomed to watching news during the day and unless he was in the car he no longer listened to the news on the radio over lunch. He was shocked and I took the opportunity to ask him for a message, as I knew the media was going to start calling for comments. (Whenever anything of any significance happened in the world, the media would call us instantaneously, wanting a comment, advice or an opinion from him about something.) And soon they did, and I relayed his words conveying condolences to the American people. We heard through staff that this angered President Mbeki who felt Madiba was too quick in releasing a statement. The Presidency felt the right thing would have been for us to wait until the President had issued a statement.
While I understood their concerns, I felt that Madiba never issued statements or spoke on behalf of the country but as a humanitarian. Why couldn’t he express his sadness and sympathy? Again I will never know if it was really President Mbeki’s concern or that of his staff.
The benefit of our small team was that we could respond to situations immediately. I was not paid extra to deal with the media all hours of the day or night but it became part of my job to be Madiba’s spokesperson in addition to being his personal secretary and managing his office. The advantage was that I had two calls to make to react to anything. First to Madiba to ask what he wanted to say, and secondly to Prof. Gerwel to get his opinion on the matter. We were not tied up in bureaucracy because we were such a small team and it worked well.
Even though the media knew I was a rookie they tolerated me and respected me. But Madiba would jokingly tell them sometimes when they still wanted to pose a question after we had ended a press briefing: ‘You’d better listen to her, she is my boss.’ At one stage I called a Professor of Communication at one of the local universities. I asked for some guidance in dealing with the media and he spent some time with me giving me rules to follow and protocols to apply. The most important were: don’t let the media own you or control the territory you are responsible for. Always make sure your territory is clearly defined in which you control them.
I took these lessons to heart. However, to many people I seemed like a bitch: I have been described as a lioness, a witch and a Rottweiler dog. Being the gatekeeper to the most famous man in the world meant I just had to be tough and brusque sometimes. Few realized the challenges I had in trying to deal with the world’s media in addition to the other ordinary tasks I had. However, I befriended many people in the media and we built a common trust. I learned from mistakes others made around me and I tried to steer clear of those pitfalls. The effort and stress that goes into counting every word you say has its price. It’s exhausting. But the most important advice anyone ever gave me was, never lie to the media. There are literally a million ways to deal with any situation and Madiba was the best teacher in tutoring me to see those ways, but lying was never an option.
We were scheduled to pay a visit to the United States to attend a special session at the United Nations late in September 2001. At first we thought that the meeting would be cancelled as a result of 9/11 but they pressed ahead. Cleaning operations were still under way as we visited Ground Zero. It was very touching and very moving. It was just a few weeks after the actual incident and there was a haze above the area. It was as if I could feel the souls of those thousands of people still drifting in the air. The workers all stopped when they saw Madiba and started applauding him. Only once we stood at Ground Zero did the enormity of the tragedy sink in. Madiba was visibly shocked and disturbed by what he saw. We conversed with Mayor Giuliani for a while and he explained the clean-up operations.
Following our visit to New York, we tried to get in touch with President Bush but he never returned our call. We realized he was facing huge challenges. I called the Situation Room at the White House and asked to schedule a time for Mr Mandela to speak with the President. One also had to reveal the topic of such a conversation. I explained that we were in the US and Madiba simply wanted to offer his support for the challenges the President was facing. Whether the President simply didn’t want to speak to him or whether the person in the Situation Room decided for him, we will never know.
* * *
We were still taking part in the negotiations in Arusha in Tanzania on Burundi. Judge Bomani, the administrative head of the negotiating process, then brought some of the rival parties to South Africa where Madiba met with them in Johannesburg to listen to their sides of the conflict. Many of the rebels had never travelled to South Africa before and they were obviously impressed and excited to be in Johannesburg. It was clear that they were nowhere near a peace deal though. The peace negotiations continued for two years. Over the following two years we would travel to Arusha, a town close to the foot of Kilimanjaro in Tanzania where the peace talks were situated. It was necessary for the parties to meet on neutral grounds. Madiba was extremely tough on all parties in the negotiations. Our visits were kept short as facilities in Arusha were limited. He would sit in meetings for hours and hours, negotiating but also forcefully reprimanding all parties. Sometimes Prof. Gerwel and I became nervous and embarrassed as Madiba would be very hard on some people. He was, however, never disrespectful and despite his tenacity and determination the various parties simply didn’t give ground.
We visited Bujumbura in Burundi only on a few occasions, but while we were there one could hear the gunshots in the distance of ongoing fighting in the mountains. In the book Conversations With Myself, Madiba wrote: ‘Leadership falls into 2 categories a) Those who are inconsistent, who[se] actions cannot be predicted, who agree today on a [matter] and repudiate it the following day. b) Those who are consistent, who have a sense of honour, a vision.’ It was clear to me that if these leaders were consistent in their pursuit for a peaceful solution in their country, if they consistently showed their commitment to driving the process towards a settlement, he would have had more patience with them as it is a leadership style he could then respect.
Often President Mkapa of Tanzania and Presidents Museveni of Uganda and Moi of Kenya, the neighbouring states, would attend joint meetings with us in Arusha. They all referred to Madiba as ‘Mzi’ – which I gather means ‘great one’. People were friendly and hospitable but it was a process that took way too much of Madiba’s energy, and I personally felt he could have made a bigger difference by spending that energy in our own country, assisting the government to fast-track delivery of services to the masses, something which now became critical to the people who voted the ANC into power. But it seemed the Mbeki government didn’t want him to help; they saw it as meddling.
After two years of negotiations in Tanzania, Madiba called on former President Clinton, President Chirac of France and others to support the signing of an interim peace agreement by all parties involved in Burundi with President Buyoya as an interim head of state. Personally I didn’t think they would sign the deal but Madiba sat night after night, sometimes until three in the morning, talking to the parties involved and convincing them that they couldn’t disrespect the President of the United States of America by not signing the deal. He said it would be a very bad reflection on them as leaders and a sign that they were not serious about peace.
Thinking back it was actually funny that he used the title of the President of the United States to convince them in this way. Their reasons for not signing were not reasonable and he had exhausted all other avenues by then, trying to convince them that peace was the only solution. There was a budget for the peace process and each participant received a daily allowance, food and accommodation while in Arusha negotiating. For many rebels who lived and fought their battles from the bush in Burundi it obviously paid to be involved in such peace talks as they could then collect money to support their battles. They therefore dragged out the talks as long as possible and sometimes stayed for two or three weeks while we only went for three days at most. The people in the negotiations, leaders of rival groups, were all highly educated, many of them educated in Europe, and there was no way that they couldn’t comprehend the advantages of a peace deal. But like in all similar circumstances they were not necessarily willing to surrender their personal power base for the sake of their country’s future. Madiba would remind them continuously that that alone was a sign of a lack of leadership qualities, and even though it sometimes felt as if he rarely stopped short of insulting them, no progress was made.
President Buyoya was an impressive charming intelligent gentleman, apart from the white socks that he wore. On 18 April 2001 some rebels invaded a radio station in Bujumbura and news spread across the globe that it was the start of a coup. Madiba was somewhere and couldn’t be reached for several hours. I couldn’t get hold of Prof. Gerwel and Judge Bomani’s phone was switched off too. Media started calling our office and wanted confirmation about the coup. At first I was sarcastic about it and asked the first caller whether he/she thought I would know about a coup sitting in my office in Johannesburg. I then decided to call President Buyoya as he was the only one I had a number for and who would be able to confirm such a rumour or not. I spoke to him and he was as friendly as always and happy to hear from ‘Mzi’s’ office. ‘Oh Miss Zelda, I am happy to hear from you, how is Mzi?’ he asked. He explained that it was simply some rebels who’d taken over a radio station and I told him what the international news bulletins were reporting. I urged him to issue a statement to dispel the rumours and from our side we were able to confirm that there was no coup. I clearly remember that I had had plans for that evening to socialize but spent the entire evening fielding media calls. As soon as Madiba became available I briefed him. He laughed at all the unnecessary commotion of which he was completely unaware.
* * *
Dr Percy Yutar requested to see Madiba one day. Percy Yutar was the state’s lawyer in the trial that sent Madiba to life-long imprisonment. He was in financial difficulty and wanted Madiba to assist him to sell the Rivonia Trial documents. They had seen each other once since that time, while Madiba was President, when he invited Dr Yutar to lunch at the official Presidential residence in Pretoria. He explained that he had tried to convince the government to buy the documents from him, but we refused to help too. I couldn’t quite comprehend how he ended up having these documents in his possession but thought he probably owned them because it was the case in which he appeared. Luckily the documents were later bought, by the Oppenheimers and Douw Steyn, and most of them are now in the National Archives.
When Madiba asked to see Yutar for the first time after his release, in the 1990s, I felt sorry for Yutar, knowing that he had to live with himself after all of that but now it somehow disgusted me that this man sent Madiba to life imprisonment, had a wonderful free life himself, and then he still wanted Madiba to help him to sell the exact documents that sent him to prison. Those documents belonged to the government; how did he manage to take them to his personal archive after he retired? It just didn’t sit well with me and I decided even before Madiba declined to help with the sale of the documents that I would not be party to that deal on principle.
On 2 November 2001 Douw opened the house on his game reserve in the Limpopo Province called Shambala that he had built for Madiba as a retreat. Shambala is the Tibetan word for ‘heaven on earth’. Douw Steyn’s generosity didn’t stop the time he housed Madiba for six months after he left Soweto in the early 1990s after he’d separated from Mrs Winnie Mandela. On one occasion Douw invited Madiba and Mrs Machel to his farm Shambala in the Waterberg. It was a relaxed luncheon that was planned with just Douw, his wife Carolyn and his staff on the farm. When Madiba and Mrs Machel returned they told me that Douw had offered to build a house on the farm for Madiba and Mrs Machel’s use, where they could relax and go to as no one would be able to disturb them there because of the privacy of the farm. Madiba and Mum (as we started calling Mrs Machel, imitating Madiba) knew not to refuse the offer as Douw didn’t take lightly to being refused. In no time he built the most beautiful house on the farm, before even completing his own.
In many ways Douw Steyn reminded me of Jay Gatsby. He would always host short-notice, over-the-top lavish parties at one of his residences. Madiba only attended a few of these but he always valued spending time with Douw and was most entertained by the lavish lifestyles of the rich and famous. Douw would tell Madiba about his extravagant deals and it would intrigue Madiba that one person could have so much wealth. After his release Madiba was introduced to Douw by members of the ANC. When Madiba left Soweto in the mid-90s, separating from his wife Mrs Winnie Madikizela Mandela, Douw housed Madiba for six months and it is there that Madiba completed his memoirs, Long Walk to Freedom, and regularly met with ANC officials to work on an interim constitution for South Africa. That residence belonging to Douw was later converted to the Saxon hotel.
Finally there was a space where we could hide. Even though Madiba loved people and being with people it was difficult in the city to find time for peace and quiet, time to think. He was confronted by requests in the city from many people he eagerly wanted to please, but if there was a place where people would have difficulty to find him, we could create the space where he could think and perhaps write. Shambala is a good distance from Johannesburg and we all agreed that few people would actually go through the trouble of travelling there to visit Madiba. He would visit this house on a few occasions and instructed us to clear his diary for a few weeks at a time to spend time there.
The launch of the house at Shambala coincided with a visit of the Miss World contestants to South Africa and Douw hosted them on the farm at the same time. Madiba had made a point before to always meet the Miss South Africa winner after she was crowned every year. Then one year he indicated that he wanted to meet a Miss World who was visiting South Africa but at that stage he had not yet met the reigning Miss South Africa. I warned him he couldn’t meet Miss World and not Miss South Africa because we’d be in trouble for not paying attention to our own people first, and he agreed to meet the Miss South Africa first. Then he repeated the story of how well I advised him. I would have rather preferred to be known as someone who advised him about preventing a major world war, but he was very impressed about my good advice about Miss World vs Miss South Africa. Friends and associates of Madiba complained that he spent too much time with beauty queens and that it negatively impacted on his image. Just one of the struggles we had to face. He admired beauty and these seemingly frivolous interactions were purely because he enjoyed being in the company of these beautiful women, who of course all adored Nelson Mandela.
* * *
Early in November 2001 we visited Brussels where we spoke to Prime Minister Verhofstadt about the settlement being reached in Burundi and how the European Union could support the country – on 1 November we had travelled to Bujumbura for the swearing in ceremony of the new interim government. I felt that the peace deal was somewhat forced but if Madiba hadn’t insisted on it they would still be negotiating. He was relieved that it was over. A South African peace-keeping force is present in Burundi to this day.
In December we proceeded to Tripoli to visit the Brother Leader, after which we set off to the US to attend a fundraiser for the Mosaic Foundation, a foundation run by the wife of Prince Bandar. We also visited Maryland as well as delivering a report to the United Nations on Burundi. We then proceeded to Toronto and Ottawa where Madiba was bestowed with Canada’s highest honour by Prime Minister Jean Chrétien. We were tired after a very long year and Madiba’s age was not on our side. Yet his urgency to make a difference didn’t diminish. He wanted to continue to spread the good news of a new South Africa to the world. He wanted to encourage foreigners to maintain confidence in our country and to invest. And in between, he wanted to maintain relationships with his friends.
Before travelling to Tripoli we had again visited Saudi, Oman, Bahrain and Kuwait to fundraise for the Foundation. I liked Oman and Bahrain and the King of Bahrain was very hospitable, as was the Emir of Oman. In Kuwait something strange happened. We’ve all taken bath soaps or toiletries in our own bathrooms when travelling to luxury hotels. In this particular guest house Madiba’s bathroom was stocked with a very expensive brand of soaps, aftershave, bodywash, etc. While we were at an appointment away from the guest house, someone, presumably a bodyguard as they were the only ones who remained behind, decided to help himself to some of these toiletries in Madiba’s bathroom. Little did he know that Madiba had taken note of every item in his bathroom before we left. Upon our return he noticed that something was missing and he called all the security detail to stand parade. He also called me and told me to come in as ‘witness’. The lawyer in Madiba was holding court. I wanted to hide my face in embarrassment on behalf of the bodyguards.
He questioned them and gave ‘the villain’ the opportunity to replace the item or else he would report him to the Minister of Police when we returned home, or else he would have all of them fired if the ‘villain’ didn’t come forward. He wanted me to call the Minister there and then from Kuwait to report the case, but I thought it was better that we left it until our return to South Africa (and pretended that I couldn’t get hold of the Minister immediately). Madiba was very serious. The next morning the item was replaced and he forgot about it, as he promised he would. He didn’t mind you taking the toiletries from your own bathroom, but not from his. And when we left, he didn’t want to take any of the items in his bathroom with him; he left it all untouched and unopened. He never wanted to take advantage of our hosts and he expected everyone to behave that way.
On another occasion elsewhere someone nabbed cutlery from our host and when he was caught by his senior I knew I had to deal with the matter with the utmost discretion, as Madiba would not tolerate such things. I decided that we had to deal with it internally rather than call on the ‘lawyer’ to become the ‘prosecutor’. Because teams rotated, people never knew what happened to others while we were on trips abroad and therefore this particular team had no experience with the ‘prosecutor’. I insisted in this case that the guy be disciplined within his force structures upon our return home even though we returned the cutlery to its owner before we left. The one thing Madiba was totally intolerant about was dishonesty. Whether it involved a bar of soap or a political agenda.
To me, Madiba was a kind, generous soul but principled and disciplined in every sense of the word. I don’t know whether it is as a result of my Calvinist upbringing or my sensitive personality and having grown up in a house where the only violence experienced was that of my father’s loud voice, but I get scared whenever someone raises his/her voice. I avoid confrontation of a personal nature and rather become quiet and withdraw myself completely. It is not that I fear confrontation as such, but I get nervous whenever other people raise their voices. It was the same when Madiba raised his voice. He had a loud voice by nature but increasing the pitch just a little made me nervous. It wasn’t as if he had raging outbursts and I only heard him raising his voice on a few occasions during the years I worked with him. It was usually only in situations that really angered him, like when someone betrayed him or was dishonest or over a personal matter. I would cringe for the other person’s sake and then as soon as the person left, I would try and defuse the tension. Those close to Madiba knew when he got angry. But he would never take out his anger on others then. He would become quiet too and disturbed.
During the latter part of his Presidency, when I often found myself ‘manning’ the office in Pretoria by myself, I would often call his bodyguard Rory Steyn, whenever he was on duty, to give me an assessment of the President’s overall mood before he arrived at the office. The bodyguards would drive the President from his home in Houghton to the office in Pretoria and Rory would be one of the people who would know whether the President was serious, in a humorous mood, or if his mind was elsewhere occupied. Rory’s assessments helped me to ease into the day with the President without making inappropriate comments or an overly friendly greeting when he didn’t feel up to it.
By these accounts of all our travels it sounds as if the Nelson Mandela Foundation raised millions but in fact we didn’t. It was clearly easier for Madiba to fundraise for the ANC, a liberation movement, than for a foundation. The Foundation was not well established, or rather, its direction was constantly changing, and I think people hesitated to donate, not knowing whether it was merely a family foundation or a NGO implementing projects.
In early 2002 I ran into someone from the Protocol section at the President’s office. I was told by this particular person that paintings and photos in which Madiba appeared had been removed from the display area at the Spier wine estate in the Western Cape, in preparation of a visit there by President Mbeki. I had no reason not to believe this person and it was confirmed when it appeared in the local Mail and Guardian newspaper a week later. It put validity to my point that it was not necessarily President Mbeki who fostered the particular feelings towards Madiba but that it was aggravated by actions like these from staff. Surely it must have been an embarrassment to President Mbeki to read something like this in the newspapers. It is so petty and there is no way that I could believe that the President would instruct his staff to remove any items that bear relation to Nelson Mandela.
* * *
In March 2002 Madiba gave me a task. He wanted me to organize a gala dinner for struggle veterans, similar to what he did during his Presidency when he hosted wives of struggle veterans by inviting them for tea at Mahlamba Ndlopfu. Even though they no longer shared the focus of a liberation struggle he felt it was necessary for them to be honoured and that he was not seen to have forgotten them even though his life had moved on beyond the struggle. Only this time, it had to be around 1,500 guests. We quickly fundraised and set up a task team for the event.
The memories of this event and the difficulties we faced in organizing it will remain with me for the rest of my life. It was worth every effort though when one witnessed how old people’s faces lit up when they saw friends and colleagues they hadn’t seen in many years, often not knowing if people they were close to in the struggle were still alive. Most of them still lived in poor circumstances without basic services despite their history in the liberation struggle. I somehow also felt angry for them and did what I could to ensure that at least once they were paid tribute to in a festive way.
It was impossible to make everyone happy. Simply, Madiba was never keen on staying anywhere too long. He wanted to keep moving and I think an urgency drove him to do as much as possible before he got too old to move around. He was attending at least five to seven public events per week at the time and every event was the same story. There was no reason for him to sit at an event for two hours to listen to endless speeches. I recall him once bringing a priest’s prayer to a rude halt when he asked the Master of Ceremonies to go and stop the priest from continuing to pray. When I asked him about it afterwards he said that he didn’t have a problem with praying but that it was not necessary for the priest to try and convert us all with one such long prayer. He was right. The prayer was not limited to blessing or opening the ceremony but was longer than a sermon!
There was a fine line between appearing to be disrespectful and allowing the programme to reach its functionality. In February 2003 Mathatha Tsedu wrote an editorial in the Sunday Times criticizing us for not allowing Madiba to remain longer at an opening of a school. Mathatha wrote: ‘It was very embarrassing, and many people here say because Mandela’s life is run by some white woman, when he attends black events he is always in a hurry. “We understand that when he attends white events he stays longer,” an organiser told me.’ He continued:
I know Zelda la Grange, Mandela’s personal assistant, and believe she would not snub occasions simply because they were black. The question must be asked whether Mandela’s office is managing his diary correctly to ensure that he not only attends fleetingly to issues and events but stays long enough not to be seen to be just passing through.
Easier said than done. Madiba was the one who would look at a draft programme before we attended events and tell me where to insist they cut the programme, and then it was up to me to make sure I got him out of an event, usually about thirty minutes after arrival. Yes it was ‘fleetingly passing through’, but he wanted to fleetingly pass through irrespective of race, the nature of the event, or where it was.
The reality was that the fact that I was white was never going to be overlooked by many people. Race was still an issue and many people have not come to terms with the fact that that we are all South Africans, irrespective of colour. The damage done by apartheid was underestimated and it manifested in ways that whenever no other excuse could be found for a problem, race was the easiest issue to blame. I had learned from Madiba that two things would destroy the validity of your argument immediately if you used them: race and insults. When your argument is based on principle there is no reason for you to grapple with issues of race or try and insult your opponent. Stick to the principle, and if you can’t it means you don’t have an argument.
(In 2008 I was awarded one of the ten Women of the Year awards by City Press and Rapport, two Sunday newspapers in South Africa. Mathatha was the Editor-in-Chief of City Press then and I appreciated the gesture regardless of our earlier differences. I’m sure he did not argue for this award personally but it must have passed by his desk and he could have objected to it if he’d wanted.)
There were two things Madiba was completely intolerant of as far as events were concerned: a briefing and a waiting room. He argued if we could be on time, everyone could, and he refused on many occasions to go to waiting or holding rooms. He would enter the events and by his presence force proceedings to start whether people were ready or not.
* * *
In April 2002 South Africa had its first space traveller, Mark Shuttleworth. Mark was well known in the country for his invention of an internet banking security software program which he sold for billions abroad. He was South Africa’s youngest billionaire and, of course, he got tasked to build a school too. Mark visited us on a few occasions and it was agreed that he would call Madiba on my cellphone once he was in space. It was very exciting. We all watched him flying off into space but on the next day we went on with life, and while his trip dominated the news we had to continue with business as usual.
The agreement was that Mark would call on a particular day and I of course forgot to make a note of it. My cellphone rang and the number was disguised as ‘private number’. Usually I don’t answer those but I did as Madiba was next door in the office and he heard the phone ringing. On the other end of the line the person said: ‘Hello, is that Zelda?’ It sounded like a call from America and I was irritated as I hated people disturbing me during the day on my cellphone to tell me about their long proposals or to have lengthy discussions while I was attending to Madiba. I said: ‘Yes, can I help you?’ The person said: ‘I’m calling from the ISS.’ I thought: What is the ISS? Again, now slightly irritated, I asked the man how I could help him. He repeated, ‘It’s Mark from the ISS.’ I thought it could be some organization and tried to think quickly so as to not sound stupid. His last attempt was: ‘Zelda, it’s Mark, I’m calling from space.’ Oh my word. The penny dropped and I said: ‘Oh Mark, how are you . . . ? Just hold on for Madiba.’
I rushed into Madiba’s office and he too didn’t know at first what I was trying to tell him when I said ‘It’s Mark, Mark Shuttleworth, he’s calling from space.’ It was funny at the time though and later when Mark returned he came to visit to tell us about his experiences and he enjoyed our story. We were very proud of him.
It was about this time that Madiba announced on one of his visits to Qunu that he wanted trees to be planted on his farm, big full-grown trees to protect the view of his house from the road, the N2 highway that ran past his farm. He tasked me with this and I didn’t have a clue where to start searching for someone who could do this. I called my dad and asked him whether he knew who one contacts for something like this and he said that he would make a few calls and get back to me. Comprehending my sense of urgency about everything in life he soon called back and said he would try and help me to find someone. Then a day later he called to say that he managed to get a quote from someone to do the job and he would forward it to us. It was way too expensive and I reported back to him. He said he would try to find a solution. Being a daddy’s girl I always expected my dad to find solutions for all my problems. And so he did. He called back to offer to go and do it himself.
I was hesitant and sceptical about this. I asked him to put his proposal in writing and I gave it to Madiba. Madiba was receptive of the idea and asked to speak to my dad. By this time they had already met and Madiba liked my father’s unpretentious attitude, and because of Madiba’s influence in my life my dad’s attitude had changed towards him. I then made it very clear to Madiba that I did not wish to be involved in these dealings at all and that my dad had to report to his lawyer, Ismail Ayob, who was responsible for all payments. Madiba understood my concern that I didn’t want to be blamed by anyone for nepotism.
Exactly as I expected my dad put his heart and soul into the project and soon the trees were planted. To the end Madiba always asked after my parents and specifically about my father’s well-being. My father didn’t charge Madiba for the work he had done, but only for procurement of the trees, groundwork and the labour he had to bring in from elsewhere. Madiba was extremely appreciative. We teased my dad and said: ‘You see, times have changed . . . here you are, the old conservative, planting trees in a black man’s garden!’ and we would all laugh about it. My dad was extremely proud of his job and always asked me to report about the trees whenever I visited Qunu. My parents were so appreciative of the opportunities Madiba had granted me that it changed them and softened their hearts too. Those interactions, Madiba’s genuine appreciation and the respect with which he dealt with my father, changed my father for ever.
* * *
We returned to New York in February of 2002 to attend the launch of the Tribeca Film Festival established by Jane Rosenthal and Robert De Niro. Following the attack on the Twin Towers in Lower Manhattan, Wall Street was desperate to rebuild its reputation as a safe environment in the city. We were also invited to a cocktail function in City Hall hosted by the new Mayor, Michael Bloomberg. We loathed going to cocktail parties or stand-up informal events with Madiba. People would just overwhelm him completely and, in addition, it was useless talking to him in such circumstances. His hearing aids would cut out all sound completely once too many people talked around him or the surroundings were too noisy.
We entered the room where about 200 people were gathered. There was no one to meet us and we started making our way through the crowd until we came across some children in the room. Madiba immediately started conversing with them as all chidren attracted him like a magnet. He had to bend down to hear them properly and I was trying my best to repeat what they were saying so that he could respond to them appropriately. While bending down a man approached him from the back and pulled on his shirt to try and draw his attention. I thought: What on earth . . . ? He continued and I turned to him and said, ‘Excuse me Sir, but what are you doing pulling on Mr Mandela’s shirt? He is busy with the children.’ He looked around as if to try and get help from someone and then said to me, ‘I want Mr Mandela to greet these people, they are my friends.’ My blood rose and I said: ‘Well, can you give him a chance to finish with the children please?’ He then said, kind of tongue in cheek, ‘Do you know me?’ and I abruptly responded: ‘No I don’t, but please just stop doing that.’ A third person appeared and whispered in my ear, ‘It’s Mayor Bloomberg, he is the host of the function.’ You could bowl me over with surprise. I apologized but nevertheless told him to please not pull on Mr Mandela’s shirt as he was already unstable on his feet, and that he would turn around once he had finished with the kids. The Mayor didn’t like me but I had no choice.
As we moved through the room a little later I saw another familiar face, that of British actor Hugh Grant. Everyone in the room wanted their picture taken with Madiba and soon chaos ensured. Hugh Grant didn’t ask to meet Mr Mandela but he smiled and from the look on his face I could gather that he was obviously excited to see him. Hugh moved in right next to Madiba and while still holding his own camera turned it around to take a picture while he was standing next to Madiba. A selfie as we have now named it. I then said, ‘Excuse me Mr Grant, I am Mr Mandela’s assistant. Can I please help you take a photo?’ I had become the ex officio official photographer as I always had to take the pictures people wanted and became an expert on how people’s cameras work. I didn’t mind if the time and place was right for it. He was grateful. I didn’t explain to Madiba who exactly he was.
* * *
On 16 February 2003 Mathatha Tsedu wrote another editorial, this time attacking the Treatment Action Campaign for using Madiba’s face on a t-shirt. The TAC was in the forefront of pushing government to give the poor access to anti-retroviral AIDS drugs, something that Madiba was supporting and prepared to fight for publicly. At that point South Africa was fast becoming the country with the highest incidence of AIDS in the world. The government did not give people free access to AIDS drugs. Madiba tried to meet with the now late Minister of Health, Dr Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, on several occasions to discuss this issue and he was upset and disgusted that she had paid so little attention to the matter. South Africa was becoming the laughing stock of the world because of its AIDS policy and behind the scenes Madiba was trying to fight the battle on behalf of faceless and nameless people. He didn’t mind the TAC using his face and again Mathatha attacked Madiba’s office for not conducting itself in the right way by protecting Madiba’s image from ‘abuse like this’, as he put it. I was starting to feel rebellious about many issues, this being one of them. Abuse to me consisted in the fact that people without a voice and platform didn’t have access to drugs and were dying by the millions. By not providing treatment the government was denying people their human rights.
We were extremely frustrated by the lack of response from the government on Madiba’s calls to meet with them and to discuss the issue of HIV drugs. On one occasion, Minister Msimang only met Madiba for thirty minutes and then she told him that she had to leave as she had an appointment for a dress fitting.
The denialism reached right to the top. President Mbeki said that he had never seen a person with AIDS, yet Madiba helped countless people to get access to AIDS drugs – people who then recovered and led some quality lives. The President also denied that there was a relation between HIV and AIDS. We helped a young lady who was on her last legs when she came to see Madiba to ask for help. She couldn’t eat by herself. He had her admitted to hospital and when the drugs she took created side effects another cocktail was prescribed. She was later discharged and today she is happily married with children and leads a normal life. Because of both local public and international pressure, and also pressure from people like President Clinton, government now provides anti-retroviral drugs and South Africa’s AIDS incidence rates are lower than before.
On the evening of 5 May 2003 I received a call from someone who told me that Madiba’s best friend, Walter Sisulu, had just passed away. They were imprisoned together but had been friends since they were young. I immediately called Kgalema Motlanthe, whom I respected and liked, to ask him to confirm it. Kgalema was the Secretary General of the ANC at the time. He didn’t know about it either but another source soon confirmed it. It was already late at night and Madiba was asleep but I knew he would want to know immediately if anything happened to Uncle Walter. Mrs Machel was in her home village in Mozambique and couldn’t be reached and so I drove to Madiba’s house. I entered and told the household staff why I was there. I knew that this was not the kind of thing that one did over the telephone as this would be a great shock to him. I went up to his bedroom and for the first time I was scared to wake him up. I often woke him when we travelled but this was different.
I first touched the duvet around his feet and said, ‘Khulu, Khulu, I need to speak to you, please wake up.’ The second time around I touched the duvet close to his shoulder and he woke up. All he said was ‘Yes Zeldina?’ as if he expected me to ask him something. I said: ‘I’m very sorry to be the one to have to tell you this but Uncle Walter passed away.’ He either didn’t hear me at first or he was in shock. I repeated myself. With one hand he reached for his hairline on his forehead and exclaimed: ‘Good God.’ It took him some time to sit up straight. I decided to sit at the foot of his bed for a while to make sure he was OK and repeated that I was very sorry to be the carrier of such bad news and told him what I had heard. I also told him that I thought he would want to know and he responded: ‘Yes, yes of course.’
We agreed that he would go to the Sisulu residence very early the next morning and he asked me to wake him in the early hours. It was hard for Madiba too to see the sadness of Aunt Albertina, Uncle Walter’s wife. He had known these people his entire life and they were part of him. He had so much respect for Uncle Walter and always commented on his admiration for Uncle Walter’s humility and simplicity, and also for his outstanding leadership and always being willing to lead from behind and to push others forward. Silently I thought that was exactly it. Uncle Walter must have pushed Madiba to the front those years they were imprisoned. Madiba often told stories about their interaction and how often they discussed things. It was indeed a sad day for everyone. South Africa lost one of its biggest heroes.
* * *
It was becoming time for Madiba to slow down. He simply could not keep up his schedule and continue to respond to every request that was put to him by friends, colleagues and associates. He would divide his time between Johannesburg, Qunu and Maputo and then spend some quiet time at Shambala whenever he wanted to write. The house at Shambala also presented the opportunity for him to entertain high profile visitors who couldn’t go to a normal game farm, as Shambala was completely private.
A few prominent artists suggested that Madiba’s prison number be used to start an AIDS campaign. It would be called 46664. Madiba had always felt strongly against his face, image or name being commercialized, whether it was for charity or commercial purposes. The artists therefore came up with this idea of using his prison number to help raise funds for the AIDS campaign. They proposed launching the brand at a big concert to be held in Cape Town, all of them of course offering to perform free of charge. While some of the singers were rehearsing in Cape Town the CEO of the Foundation decided that Madiba should speak to the artists to thank them for their tireless dedication in their efforts to support a cause close to his heart.
We were at Shambala at the time. A telephone call was scheduled when the singers would all be together so that Madiba could speak to them. I typed out their names, for instance ‘Brian May – Queen’ and ‘Dave Stewart – Eurythmics’, after briefing Madiba. I tried to explain to him who everyone was and gave him the piece of paper in order for him to remember the names. Brian May was first on the line. I stood beside him to point to the piece of paper who he was talking to. When Brian answered he said, ‘Hallo Madiba, how are you?’ Madiba politely said, ‘Hi Brian, I’m well thank you and how are you?’ Brian responded to say he was well and that they were excited to be part of this event. Madiba acknowledged and then asked: ‘How is the Queen?’ He then spoke to Dave Stewart and asked him ‘How is the Eurythmics?’ He had no idea that these were bands. He’d lost track of technology during his imprisonment and it was hard to explain to him even what a CD was, let alone musicians and bands that were familiar to us – I’d overloaded him with the wrong information. It was precious to watch such innocence but the intention behind it was pure.
Earlier that year Madiba turned eighty-five. I was tasked by the CEO of the Foundation to organize a celebration for Madiba’s birthday. I fundraised for the event and over 1,200 guests were invited to the black-tie event. Associates of Madiba from all over the world were invited – supporters, friends, politicians, royalty, etc. I guessed that I would be in the middle of the firing line when people started taking the guest list apart. I invited from gardeners to royalty to ensure that the group was fully representative. I worked day and night and my task was simple: we needed to ensure that Madiba was celebrated during his lifetime. When we walked to the elevator on the night of the event for Madiba to depart, close to midnight, Mrs Machel said: ‘Well done Zeldina, Madiba was really honoured tonight.’ Those words stuck by me despite all the flak I had to endure. People were complaining that Madiba was being ‘poppified’ – being made a pop star – because many celebrities attended the event, but no one paid attention to the gardeners, drivers and security who attended the event as guests, clearly because they were not considered famous or important enough to receive attention from the media. In addition, when we wanted help from the international community the celebrities were always called upon to give time and effort for free.
Madiba liked parties. He had gone over the guest list several times and approved of every person that was there. Some family members were angry as they were not seated around the main table, yet there were royalty and heads of state present. I subsequently wasn’t invited to Madiba’s ninetieth birthday at his farm in Qunu, and when Mrs Machel insisted that I be there, I was deliberately seated at a children’s table right at the back of the tent. Not that I had hoped to be at the main table but it was a clear sign of some of the family’s value of me in their father’s life, and an indication of what was to be expected. I never discussed my problems with Madiba because I felt he had enough to worry about. That day, perhaps, I should have spoken to him.
* * *
On 7 November Madiba travelled to Shambala where we organized for him to spend the weekend with ex-Robben Islanders and ex-colleagues. A smaller group this time and people who were close to him during the struggle years. It remains one of my best memories, to see them all interacting, enjoying and reminiscing about old times. They all enjoyed visiting Shambala and we made sure they were well treated and spoilt. I loved listening to their stories and teasing one another. These were the men that drove the struggle, planned sabotage and actions to try and bring the apartheid government to its senses. They’d spent a lifetime in prison and now they were all elderly men, enjoying their senior years, free at last. It was a proper reunion and everyone tried to outdo each other’s stories. One of those exceptionally precious occasions.
We had come such a long way in South Africa. Here I was enjoying time with ex-Robben Islanders, while at the time I was growing up I’d considered it a good thing that they were imprisoned. I became fond of many of them, such as Ahmed Kathrada, Eddie Daniels, Mac Maharaj and Andrew Mlangeni. These were the people we had to thank as they’d kept Madiba’s spirit alive in prison. And I often wondered if they ever lost hope during their time in prison or whether they ever had imagined that they would be there that day, on a private game farm, enjoying reminiscing with Madiba.