Winnie Mandela (14 page)

They found nothing incriminating, just turned the house upside down, and left. In time, Winnie would come to realise that they
never
expected to find anything incriminating, and that the raids formed part of the psychological warfare waged against opponents of the apartheid system. After she and Nelson had tidied up, she made coffee and they went back to bed. He warned her that she would have to get used to these midnight invasions of their privacy, which were a regular feature of his life. Winnie dreaded the prospect, but no raid was ever again as traumatic as the first.

The first year of marriage was a challenging time financially. For more than two years, Nelson and Oliver Tambo had spent most of their time attending the Treason Trial and preparing their defence, and their legal practice was in dire straits. They generated hardly any income from it, and were struggling to pay the office rental and provide for their families. Both men had to rely heavily on their wives to make ends meet, and Mandela’s burden was about to increase. In July, Winnie found that she was pregnant.

Nelson had adopted a lifestyle that demanded more than his diminished income allowed. He had a permit to keep alcohol at home (blacks were not allowed to store hard liquor, even in their homes, without such a permit), and although he himself was a teetotaller, there was always a variety of beverages for guests. He also liked buying exotic foods and experimenting in the kitchen. Winnie was learning that there were many things about her famous and charming husband that she had not known before their wedding, such as his taste for good living and his offbeat sense of humour. He had a knack for relating the most outrageous stories with a deadpan face, which she found exasperating at first. She was driven close to tears of embarrassment when he told people he had promised to marry her only after she agreed to refer all accident claims covered by the Workmen’s Compensation Act to him. But his friends knew when he was joking and they loved to listen to his anecdotes, especially those with a political sting in the tail.

Winnie was often angry with Nelson over what she considered to be his careless spending, and told him he was an economic disaster. He seldom had any money in his pocket, and when he did he would buy something they didn’t really need. He often brought home boxes of fruit and vegetables as part of his quest for a healthy lifestyle, which included regular exercise and eating well.

Mandela also had a rebellious streak, and at times this drove him to wilfully challenge the law. His former wife, Evelyn, was not happy about the poor education her sons were getting in Johannesburg. She discussed her concerns with Kaiser Matanzima, and he suggested that the boys be sent to school in the Transkei, where he would watch over them. Evelyn asked Matanzima to take this proposal to Mandela, who immediately agreed that the rural conditions and superior education of a mission school would be to his sons’ advantage. He took them shopping for school clothes and then drove them to the Transkei himself, without permission from the authorities, and in clear contravention of his banning order and bail conditions. He explained to Winnie that he would honour the restrictions on his movements up to a point, but was not prepared to police himself. She was understandably anxious about his decision. It was a long, tiring trip, and he had to travel through the night in order to appear in court the next day and avoid being caught out. Any number of things could go wrong, and Winnie spent a sleepless night, worrying about her husband until he was safely home again.

Whenever possible, Winnie attended the trial, both to support Nelson and because of her own political interests. Her exotic beauty, dignity and obvious strength swept through the depressing courtroom like a fresh breeze. When Nelson and Winnie were together, they turned heads. They were glamorous, basked in the glow of their love, and despite the potentially disastrous consequences of the trial, they appeared invincible. Winnie was becoming increasingly involved in the work and operations of the ANC, and it seemed to Mandela’s friends that he was grooming her to play a significant role in the movement. And they had to admit, however grudgingly, that she was more than capable of doing so.

The political atmosphere in South Africa took a turn for the worse when Dr Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd became prime minister in 1958. Like tyrants such as Hitler and Stalin, he was not born in the country he would rule with a right-wing rod. His Dutch parents emigrated to South Africa when Verwoerd was a baby, and during the 1920s, while studying in Germany, he was influenced by the doctrine of the emerging National Socialist (Nazi) Party.

ANC leader Chief Albert Luthuli described Verwoerd as apartheid’s ‘most ardent and relentless apostle’,
¹
and his policies would incite blacks to protest on an unprecedented scale. They demanded a minimum wage of £1 a day and the eradication of the Group Areas Act, the unjust permit system, the increase in poll
tax and – above all – the proposed extension of the hated pass laws. Previously, passes applied only to men. But moves were afoot to make it mandatory for black women, too, to carry at all times an identify document called a reference book, which contained the bearer’s personal particulars and a photograph. The pass was used to control the movement, employment and residence of blacks. The system divided communities and tore apart families, often forcing husbands and wives to live in different areas. Every black person over the age of sixteen had to carry their reference books at all times, and produce them on demand to any police officer, day or night. Failure to do so resulted in summary detention, and was an offence that carried a £10 fine or one-month prison sentence. Offering an excuse that a pass had been lost or simply forgotten at home made no difference, and some 500 000 blacks went to jail each year for pass offences, earning South Africa the dubious distinction of having one of the highest prison populations in the world.

Whites were not required to carry similar identity documents, but ironically they did not escape the consequences of the draconian laws. Ruthless police officers thought nothing of leaving small white children stranded and crying on their way from school or the neighbourhood shop if the black nanny who was walking them home could not produce her pass; and white employers spent a disproportionate amount of time tracking workers who had disappeared without a trace, and bailing them out of prison. Blacks viewed the pass laws with such contempt that they no longer had any regard for the stigma of going to jail. In fact, repeat pass law offenders were seen by many as political heroes.

Black women had staged numerous protests against the pass laws, of which the largest was a march by 20 000 of them on the Union Buildings in Pretoria in August 1956. Luthuli believed that the active participation of women in the struggle would force political change in his lifetime; and in his autobiography
Long Walk to Freedom
, Mandela said the women’s anti-pass protests had set an unequalled standard for anti-government protests. In October 1958, Lillian Ngoyi organised another mass protest in Johannesburg, and Winnie, already an active member of the ANC Women’s League, decided to take part. Nelson had encouraged and supported her membership of the Orlando West branch of the league, but he was taken aback when she told him of her decision. By and large, she had been shielded from the reality of life as it was experienced by most black South Africans, and he warned her that this single act of defiance could change her life dramatically. He was particularly concerned that she might lose her job at Bara, a state-run hospital, especially since they were relying almost entirely on Winnie’s salary at the time. She was also in the early stages of her first pregnancy, and Nelson feared the effect that possible imprisonment might have on her.

But although she shared his concerns, Winnie had made her decision. On the day of the march, Nelson made breakfast for his battle-ready wife and drove her
to the home of his old friend Walter Sisulu, whose wife Albertina was one of the protest leaders. Then he took the two women to Phefeni station in Orlando, from where they would take a train into the city.

Many years later, Mandela said that as she waved to him from the train window, he felt as though Winnie was setting off on a long and perilous journey, the end of which neither of them could know. His presentiment of doom proved justified. At that point, despite being Nelson’s wife, Winnie was not regarded as a threat by the government. She had no record of political activism and was a model employee. But the anti-pass demonstration would place her squarely in their sights.

Hundreds of women from townships around Johannesburg marched on the Central Pass Office that day. There were professional women and office workers in smart suits, factory workers in overalls, rural residents wrapped in tribal blankets. Some were young and educated, others old, bent and illiterate. They represented all the major ethnic groups and every social sphere. Many had babies strapped to their backs. They sang and chanted anti-pass slogans, and some of them blocked the entrance to the pass office, turning away both clerks arriving for work and people who had come to collect or apply for the iniquitous documents. The pass office was brought to a standstill, but within a few hours dozens of armed policemen arrested all the protestors and ordered them into waiting police vans. They sang and chanted all the way to Marshall Square, Johannesburg’s police headquarters. More than 1 000 women were arrested, and Mandela and Tambo were called to arrange their bail. Nelson rushed to Marshall Square, where Winnie greeted him with a bright and reassuring smile. But her induction into the rigours of political activism had only just begun.

From the police cells, the women were moved to the Fort, the prison in Braamfontein, which was totally unprepared for the sudden influx of so many awaiting-trial prisoners. There were not enough blankets, sleeping mats, toilets or food for the women, who milled around in the main hall and on a second-floor balcony while waiting to be processed. They were lined up in groups, ordered to undress, and told to squat so that warders could conduct vaginal searches for contraband. Then the women were told to dress again and shown to the cells – filthy, stinking and lice-riddled. Each woman was given a single blanket, caked with dirt and reeking of urine, and the cells were so overcrowded that there was hardly enough space for them to lie down. The ANC leadership, including Mandela, wanted to arrange bail for the women, but Lillian Ngoyi, the national president of the Women’s League, and Helen Joseph, secretary of the South African Women’s Federation, which was affiliated with the Women’s League, argued that in order for the protest to be effective, the women should forego bail, refuse to pay any fines and serve whatever sentence the courts handed down. But not all the women were prepared to spend a month or more in prison, and a
compromise was reached: they would stay in jail for two weeks, after which the ANC would pay their fines.

Meanwhile, the protests would continue. The widely reported arrests did not deter other women, and during further demonstrations another 1 000 were arrested. As the number of prisoners increased, conditions at the Fort deteriorated even further. A terrible stench from the sanitary buckets hung over the overcrowded cells, there were endless queues for showers, and Winnie was revolted by conditions that assailed her senses day and night.

As a result of the appalling conditions and the shock of her situation, she started haemorrhaging. Terrified that she was having a miscarriage, Winnie sank to her knees and buried her head in her hands. Albertina Sisulu, a trained midwife, realised that something was terribly wrong, and pushed the women surrounding Winnie out of the way so that there was enough room for her to lie down. Albertina took off her own jacket and wrapped it around Winnie to keep her warm, and gave strict instructions that she was not to move. The simple, basic care paid off, and Winnie’s baby was saved.

The women subsequently appeared in court and were convicted. The ANC, with the help of family members and well-wishers, raised the amount needed to pay their fines, and the women were free to go home. Unpleasant as her first spell in prison had been, Winnie was still in defiant mood, and she refused to apply for a reference book for years. In fact, she only capitulated after Nelson was sent to prison and she was told she would not be allowed to visit him without one.

While at the Fort, Winnie had befriended two young Afrikaans wardresses. They were curious about the protest, and sympathetic when Winnie explained it to them. When she was released, Winnie invited them to visit her and Nelson at their home. They took the train to Orlando and had lunch with the Mandelas. Afterwards, Winnie took them on a tour of the township. At the end of the pleasant outing, the visitors thanked their hosts and said they would like to visit again. Unfortunately, two young white women on a train to a black township drew the attention of the security police. The outing was reported to their superiors, they were dismissed, and the Mandelas never heard from them again.

The triumph of Winnie’s elevated status as a jailed ANC protestor was overshadowed by the shocking, though not entirely unexpected, news that she had been sacked. Although this was exactly what Nelson had warned might happen, it was still a heavy blow. She loved her work and had been happy at Bara. Moreover, they needed her salary. There were critical reports in some newspapers, which noted that Winnie, the bright graduate of the Jan Hofmeyr College, had sacrificed the chance to study in America on a scholarship in order to serve black South Africans, only to be dismissed for advocating women’s rights. The authorities took no notice, Winnie’s father sent her some money to tide them
over, and a while later she managed to get a job at the Johannesburg Child Welfare Society.

In early 1959, near the end of her pregnancy, Nelson had to go out of town to attend an executive meeting of the ANC. He assured Winnie that he would be back well ahead of the scheduled birth. But the baby had a different agenda, and Nelson arrived home a day after their first daughter was born. When he first laid eyes on her, he proudly announced that she was a true Tembu princess. The next day he arrived at the hospital with a beautiful layette for the baby, and a few days after that with a selection of pretty nightgowns for her mother.