Winnie Mandela (13 page)

Winnie Madikizela had taken the first steps to becoming Winnie Mandela.

‘It is better to be killed standing than to live on your knees.’

– Mexican saying

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REPARATIONS FOR WINNIE
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wedding turned not only the Madikizela household, but the entire village on its head. The whole district was abuzz with excitement, and the tribal elders reminded Columbus that the wedding had to befit the status of the bridegroom, who was not only a member of the royal house of the Tembu, but a respected political figure revered by millions of black South Africans.

Columbus and Hilda put their heads together. Guests would be coming from Johannesburg and other parts of the country, travelling long distances to attend the festivities. As a courtesy to them, it was decided that traditional festivities at the Madikizela home would follow the church ceremony, as well as a Western-style reception in Bizana. But there was a problem. The only venue in Bizana that was big and grand enough for the kind of reception they envisaged was the town hall, and they knew that it was reserved for use by whites. Columbus, however, went ahead and applied to hire the hall, and to his astonishment the request was granted.

This was the first wedding that Columbus would host. Those of Winnie’s siblings who were already married had chosen to make their own arrangements, but Winnie had asked for his blessing, and he and Hilda would give her the wedding of her dreams. Columbus was no longer just a poor schoolteacher, but had become a wealthy businessman who owned several shops and a fleet of buses, and he could afford to spare no effort to make the wedding memorable.

Throughout her life Winnie was a trailblazer, and her marriage was no exception. Since Mandela was a lawyer, close attention was paid to the legal formalities of the union, and at the time Winnie was one of the few black women to have an antenuptial contract. It gave her the right to conduct business transactions without having to first seek her husband’s permission, and ensured that she remained in control of her own possessions. She would be spared her mother’s anguish over having to produce at least two sons in order to comply with the hereditary custom of the Pondo.

Traditionally, black marriages were in community of property, which effectively reduced the woman’s status to that of a minor, unable to make even the smallest legal decision without her husband’s signed permission, and gave men total power
over the disposal of any assets. A strong woman like Winnie was not about to surrender her newfound independence, no matter how much she loved Mandela.

As the wedding day approached, excitement rose to fever pitch all over Pondoland. The most distant Madikizela relatives wanted to be a part of the preparations, even if this involved nothing more than discussing which cattle would be slaughtered to feed the expected crowd. While the men pondered this important decision, the women brewed large vats of traditional beer, a low-alcohol beverage made from maize or sorghum, with the consistency of gruel. They also stamped maize kernels for porridge (called grits in the southern US and polenta in Europe), and planned and prepared other dishes that would be cooked in three-legged black iron pots. Columbus asked Winnie’s Aunt Phyllis, who had some experience in catering for large crowds, to help, and she took charge of the food preparation.

In terms of his banning order, Mandela had to apply for special permission to attend his own wedding. He was granted four days, after which he had to report back to police in Johannesburg. While in the Transkei he had to stay in Bizana and restrict his activities to the wedding ceremony. He and Winnie made the long drive to Bizana with the bridal party, which included his sister Leaby, Georgina Lekgoate and Helen Ngobese. The most important piece of luggage was Winnie’s wedding gown, made, as Mandela had suggested, by his close friend Michael Harmel’s wife, Ray.

The trip was a nightmare for Winnie. An unexpected attack of pre-wedding jitters gave her diarrhoea, and much to her embarrassment Mandela had to stop the car at regular intervals so that she could run for the cover of bushes beside the road. When they reached eMbongweni after dark, the entire household and a host of relatives were waiting, and Hilda led a shrill chorus of ululating to welcome them. As dictated by custom, the bride and groom were immediately separated and would not meet again until they stood before the altar. Mandela and his party were escorted to the home of a family member, Simon Madikizela, while sisters and aunts helped an exhausted Winnie to bed. When she had not recovered by the next day, Makhulu diagnosed her as having been bewitched. She jealously guarded over Winnie, and although Mandela discreetly sent his friend Dr Mbekeni to treat the ailing bride, it was the care and counsel of her wise old grandmother that had the necessary calming effect.

Winnie’s wedding day began with a warm bath in a large iron tub. Aunt Phyllis helped her to dress in the exquisite gown of luxuriant satin and frothy lace. Her hair was swept up in soft curls and adorned with a wreath of flowers and a short, gossamer veil. She was radiantly beautiful and transparently happy. As she stepped through the door of her childhood home clutching a bouquet of roses and lilies, relatives waiting outside greeted her with a dance of joy. Makhulu led the way with
ululations and exuberant high leaps that belied her age. The Madikizela kraal was teeming with the horses of tribesmen who had come from near and far, and when all the guests were gathered they boarded Columbus’s buses for the trip to the Methodist church in Bizana. The father of the bride, in a new black suit with a carnation in the lapel, went ahead and waited for the bride at the church door. She arrived in a car festooned with ribbons in the ANC colours.

Winnie and Nelson’s wedding was a unique fusion of religious and traditional tribal customs. The church was filled to capacity when the groom slipped a gold band onto the bride’s finger and the minister pronounced them man and wife. Their eyes locked, and their faces shone with a happiness that clearly came from deep within.

They stepped out of their aura of oneness into the celebrations, ushered in by the choir with a Xhosa hymn, followed by a praise singer who recited traditional rites and lauded both the families. The guests followed the wedding party to the burial ground at the ancestral home of the Madikizelas, where they paid their respects – the first of many traditional rituals that would mark their first hours as a married couple.

Nelson, the newest member of the Madikizela family, presented the older women with headscarves, and each, in turn, danced up to the groom to receive the gift, ululating recognition and appreciation. This was followed by a demonstration of the bride’s virginal purity as her retinue walked round and round the Madikizela kraal, the young women in front, the older ones behind. Then Winnie’s kinsmen sang ‘Baya Khala Abazali’ [‘Your family is crying’] to express the sadness of parting with her. The bride was expected to wail and cry at this point, but Winnie was incapable of feigning sorrow on this happiest of days, and was smiling broadly. Irene nudged her and hissed that she should at least pretend to weep, but no matter how hard she tried, Winnie could not stop smiling. Nelson’s sister saved the moment by declaring that the bride could not possibly cry, since she had just married a prince. There was unanimous agreement.

With the Madikizelas having taken leave of Winnie, Nelson had to formally introduce her to the Madiba clan. An urgent whisper from Irene reminded Winnie that she had to keep her eyes downcast, as it would be seen as an insult if she looked her new in-laws in the eye. But with the best will in the world, Winnie could not disguise her joy. It was obvious to everyone that Nelson adored her, and there wasn’t a serious face or moment of gloom on their wedding day. The Madikizela men caught the groom’s party off guard and playfully ‘kidnapped’ Duma Nokwe, and demanded the traditional ransom. Columbus paid a goat for his release, and Duma promised to deliver the full ransom of an ox at a later date.

The celebrations moved to Bizana in the late afternoon, where proceedings opened with the usual speeches. Columbus spoke of his love for Winnie, voiced
admiration for his son-in-law’s commitment to the struggle, and warned both of them that only the deepest devotion would allow their marriage to withstand the threats they faced from all sides and enable them to weather the challenges they would face. Because of the terms of his banning order, Mandela couldn’t make the traditional bridegroom’s speech, and his sister Constance had to speak on his behalf.

Then the couple cut the wedding cake. Thirteen tiers were served to the guests, but the fourteenth layer was left untouched and carefully wrapped so that Winnie could take it to Nelson’s ancestral home for the final wedding rite. According to tradition, part of the cake had to be cut at the bridegroom’s homestead in front of the family elders, but because Nelson’s four-day period of grace was drawing to a close and he had to get back to Johannesburg, the ceremony had to be postponed. Winnie kept the wrapped cake for many years, intending to honour the tradition when Nelson was released from prison, but he never did manage to take Winnie to his home to do so.

Apart from this departure from custom, the only sadness for Winnie on her wedding day was the absence of her dear friend Adelaide Tambo. She was due to give birth at any time, and had been unable to make the long journey to eMbongweni. Oliver, however, as Nelson’s partner and a Madikizela relative, did attend the wedding.

After the formal reception, guests made their way to Columbus and Hilda’s home for more merry-making. In an atmosphere of unbridled joy, they settled down to a meal of the many dishes prepared in the weeks before the wedding, including meat and maize porridge, and many of them stayed for a whole week of celebration. But Winnie and Nelson had to leave, and on the eve of their departure Columbus took them to the hut where he had stored their traditional wedding gifts: grass mats, clay pots and an array of small live animals. Mandela graciously declined the gifts, but took two chickens as a gesture of recognition for the generosity of the givers. On their drive back to Johannesburg, the chickens escaped from the car when they stopped for lunch, and the newlyweds ran around screaming and clucking, trying to capture them. They eventually gave up and fell to the ground, laughing, leaving the chickens to fend for themselves.

When they reached Orlando the sun had not yet set, and according to tradition the time was not right for them to start their married life. So they drove to Lillian Ngoyi’s house, and waited until darkness fell. Only then did they drive to house No. 8115 where, not too long before, Winnie had faced two ardent suitors vying for her hand. Nelson’s mother, friends and other relatives were waiting for them, and another celebration followed.

Nelson and Winnie Mandela embarked on their married life determined not to allow the uncertainty of what the future held to cloud whatever time they would
have together, and to start a family immediately. Nelson’s love for Winnie had given him new hope and heart for the difficulties that lay ahead, and in later years he would say he felt as if their marriage gave him a second chance at life. There was neither time nor money for a honeymoon, so Winnie settled in house 8115 without delay. Mandela had been renting the property from the Johannesburg municipality for several years, barred from buying property except in certain areas designated by the apartheid laws. He had a ninety-nine-year lease on the tiny corner house, which had an indoor bathroom, electricity and running hot water – rare luxuries in the sprawling township.

As before, the Treason Trial dominated their lives. Nelson had already formed his lifelong habit of rising early, around 4 am, before going for a run around the township. He found the tranquillity of the empty streets, the crisp air and the breaking day rejuvenating. Once the sun was up, the brief respite from smoke and kerosene fumes was dispelled as fires and small stoves were lit to hastily cook a pot of porridge and brew a cup of tea before the streets burst into life and thousands of people rushed to work in buses and taxis that wove their impatient way into the city.

Winnie made Nelson a breakfast of orange juice and toast, a small bowl of porridge and sometimes a raw egg before he took a bus to the trial in Pretoria. Winnie went back to work at Baragwanath Hospital, and her mother-in-law took care of the house. When time allowed, Nelson would call at his law office before going to the trial each morning, and when court adjourned in the afternoons he would spend long hours at the office in an effort to keep the practice afloat and earn an income. Political work and meetings with other ANC officials usually took up the rest of the evening, and he often arrived home after midnight. He was rarely there over weekends. Winnie soon found out that the life of a struggle leader’s wife was a lonely one. Often enough, though, their house was filled with people and laughter, political discussion and debate, and she found the constant stream of visitors stimulating. After living in a hostel for so many years she enjoyed having her own home, even though not everything in it was to her liking. But she exercised patience, making discreet changes slowly. She didn’t touch Nelson’s study, which he had partitioned off from the lounge and furnished with a couch, three cane chairs, a bookshelf and a display cabinet. On the wall was a picture of Lenin, addressing a huge crowd. It was Nelson’s kingdom.

A few weeks after their wedding, a group of Nelson’s tribesmen arrived to ceremoniously admit Winnie into the Madiba tribe, and she was given the name Nobandla, which he adopted as a term of endearment. She affectionately called him Madiba. To the world outside they were Nelson and Winnie Mandela, but away from the public glare they were Madiba and Zami, short for Nomzamo.

One night a loud banging on the door rudely awakened everyone in the house. Winnie was frightened and bewildered, and had no idea what was going on. It was 1.30 in the morning, but Nelson quickly told her not to worry, that it was just a regular police raid. He hastily pulled on some clothes and rushed to the front door. Winnie sat in bed with the blankets pulled up under her chin, her heart pounding as faceless men shone torches at all the windows and yelled for them to open the door. She had known that the house and Mandela’s office were raided frequently, but not that everything about these incursions was intentionally designed to unsettle the victims as much as possible. She watched in horror as policemen rummaged through their personal possessions, threw books off shelves, emptied drawers of clothing onto the floor, even read their personal letters, all the while making insulting remarks about
kaffirs
.