MANDELA’SMAGIC

RAISED IN A MUD HUT BUT BRILLIANT AND DRIVEN,HE FREED HIS PEOPLE, TRANSFORMED HIS NATION

AND BECAME A GLOBAL ICON OF PEACE. BUT NOW THAT HE’S GONE, WILL HE BE FORGOTTEN?

AN ASSESSMENT OF NELSON MANDELA’S LEGACY BY GLOBE CORRESPONDENTS PAST AND PRESENT

PLUS AN EXCLUSIVE, INTIMATE FAREWELLFROM NOBEL LAUREATE NADINE GORDIMER

DOUBLE IDENTITY: With his solid rural roots, NelsonMandela, shown above at 19, ‘maintained a deepsense of the African self,’ friend and Nobel Prize-

winning author Nadine Gordimer writes on Page 5– a sense of self ‘in synergy with an understanding

of Africa’s place in the contemporary world.’P.K.A. GAESHWE/BLACK STAR

C A NA DA ’ S NAT I O NA L N EW S PA P E R • W E D N E S DAY , D E C E M B E R 3 1 , 1 9 6 9

Expanded coverage, including Sandra Martin’s full obituary, exclusive video of Bob Geldof and U2’s Bono discussing his impactand a guest book for anyone wishing to offer condolences or share their memories, at globeandmail.com/mandela

User: DSlater Time: 12-18-2012 12:11 Product: Standard PubDate: .Bank Zone: Common Edition: 1 Page: ( Mandela1) Colour: CMYK

tgam.ca/mandela

1918 - 2013

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Nelson Mandela was a vision-ary hero of the multiracial

age. He began life in a mud-floored hut near the end of theFirst World War and wound upwinning global accolades and theNobel Peace Prize for his pivotalrole in the liberation of 30 mil-lion black and coloured SouthAfricans – and for avoiding abloodbath in the process.

Like an old soldier, he quietlyfaded away in Johannesburgtoday with his beloved wife, Gra-ça Machel, by his side. He will beburied with his ancestors inQunu, a village he left as a youngman but revisited often in nostal-gic reveries about his happychildhood before politics, pro-tests and prison determined hisdestiny.

Although retired from publiclife since 2004, he remained asecular saint to his fervent fol-lowers. Almost anyone familiarwith his life – with its extremehardships and remarkableachievements – is impressed byhis ability to learn from expe-rience, to mask his uncertaintyand to inspire others to becomebetter human beings.

Convicted of treason in 1964, hewas sentenced to life at hardlabour and expected to fade fromview (instead of being given thedeath penalty and turned into amartyr). Yet prison was the mak-ing of him as a political leader.Smart, determined and resilient,with a canny eye for the mainchance, he acquired self-disci-pline during his long confine-ment, curbing the impatienceand arrogance of his youth.

He had the wisdom to realizethat apartheid oppressed allSouth Africans – black, white andcoloured alike – and that free-dom and justice must embracetyrants as well as their victims.He also learned to take a longview of the struggle, so thatwhen it finally ended, he wasable to temper his bitterness andforgo a heady surge of revenge infavour of the measured diploma-cy of reconciliation.

Many African countries haveelected visionary revolutionariesas political leaders who thenbecame compromised, if not cor-rupted, by the lure of power.Because of his principles, hisdedication to equality and socialjustice and his lack of personalambition, Mandela stood apart. Itwas with good reason that theUnited Nations recognized hiscontribution to world freedom in2009 by designating July 18, hisbirthday, as Mandela Day.

A week before his 92nd birth-day, he made a brief appearanceat the World Cup final in Johan-nesburg. Wearing a fur hat andbundled against the chill, he waswheeled around the field in agolf cart to the joy of the crowd,his face illuminated by a beatificsmile. The last time he made apublic appearance, it proved apoignant and symbolic farewell.

Soccer and Mandela share a leg-acy dating from his days on Rob-ben Island during the direst daysof apartheid when he and his fel-low inmates were barred fromplaying it. The decision to holdthe World Cup in South Africa in

2010 was largely a tribute to himmarking the 20th anniversary ofhis release after spending nearlythree decades in prison.

His legacy has its rough spots.After coming to power, heensured the transition from seg-regation to multiracial democra-cy by assuaging white SouthAfricans, to stave off civil war,and placated financial markets,to prevent an economic collapse.

As a result, he saddled his newgovernment with old debt, aswell as onerous obligations towhite landowners and to interna-tional economic organizations,all of which made land reformand income redistribution vir-tually impossible.

He also seemed blinkered tothe savage reality of HIV/AIDS,whose infection rate ballooned to25 from 8 per cent while he wasin office. It was only in retire-ment, after losing his own son tothe virus in 2005, that he cam-paigned openly for AIDS aware-ness and for antiretroviral drugsto slow the disease.

Considering the scope of hisachievement, however, such mis-steps were rare.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

First in his family to go to school,he wants to be a civil servant

Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela wasborn on July 18, 1918, the son of avillage chief in the Transkeiregion of what is now South Afri-ca’s Eastern Cape province. Atthe age of 7, Rolihlahla (which

translates as “to pull a branch ofa tree,” but Mandela suggestedreally means “troublemaker”)began his formal education, thefirst in his immediate family todo so, at the local mission school.It was there he was given his Eng-lish name, likely in honour ofnaval legend Horatio Nelson.

Mandela hoped to become acivil servant one day, but in 1939,he was expelled from the Univer-sity of Fort Hare for his part in astudent protest and then, toescape an arranged marriage, hefled to Johannesburg, where hemet Walter Sisulu, who wouldbecome his mentor, colleagueand, eventually, cellmate.

Sisulu introduced Mandela toLazar Sidelsky, a liberal-mindedlawyer who hired him as a clerktrainee for his firm.

After completing his degree bycorrespondence, in 1943, Mandelaenrolled in law at Johannesburg’sUniversity of the Witwatersrand.He left six years later, again with-out graduating, but not beforebeing introduced to the AfricanNational Congress (ANC), the or-

ganization that would dominatethe rest of his life.

The next year, he, Sisulu andOliver Tambo, whom he had metat Fort Hare, helped to create theANC youth league.

Also in 1944, he met and, threedays before his 26th birthday,married Evelyn Mase, a cousin ofSisulu who had come from theTranskei to train as a nurse. Thefirst of their four children arrivedtwo years later.

In 1948, South African votershanded power to the Afrikaner-dominated National Party, whichadvocated apartheid – the policyof segregation and repressionthat would govern the countryfor almost 50 years.

The ANC responded with acampaign of civil disobedience,joining the Communists andSouth African Indian Congress toforge the multiracial resistance tobigotry that became its hallmark.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Launches first black legal officebut soon runs afoul of the law

Two years later, Mandela finallyqualified as a lawyer and openedthe country’s first African-runlaw firm in partnership withTambo. They provided affordableadvice to clients who otherwisewould have had to appear unre-presented before white judges.

But he soon was caught be-tween his respect for the law andhis desire to denounce a regimethat, by this point, refused to lethim hold public office (even in

the ANC), make speeches or evenleave town.

So, in 1955, when the historicCongress of the People was heldnear Soweto to draft a “freedomcharter” for a democratic SouthAfrica of the future, Mandela hadto watch in disguise from thesidelines. Six months later, hewas among 136 opposition lead-ers accused of treason for alleg-edly plotting a communist coup.He secured bail, but returned tohis home to find that his wife, adevout Jehovah’s Witness whosefaith ruled out political involve-ment, had left, taking with hereverything in the house, includ-ing the children.

He wasn’t alone long. In a fewmonths, he drove past a beauti-ful young woman at a bus stop.At 22, Winnie Nomzamo Madiki-zela was 16 years his junior andhad just graduated as the coun-try’s first black social worker. Thetwo fell in love, married in 1958and, within two years, haddaughters Zenani and Zindzi.

In March, 1960, several monthsbefore Zindzi’s birth, a pivotalmoment in the struggle againstapartheid took place. Police inSharpeville, a township outsideJohannesburg, panicked during aprotest at their station and firedinto a crowd of 10,000, killing 69and injuring 200.

In the aftermath, the govern-ment declared a state of emer-gency and outlawed the ANC,which responded by dispatchingOliver Tambo to London to set

NELSON MANDELA: 1918-2013

The captive freedom fighterwho became a global role model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Nearly three decades

trapped in a cell,

Sandra Martin

reports, steeled

Mandela to change

the course of history

1964 ‘I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black dom-

ination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all

persons live together in harmony … It is an ideal which I hope to live for and

to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.’

Nelson Mandela before Robben Island

From his four-hour address to the courtthat sentenced him to life in prison

UNREPENTANT: Eight defendants,Mandela among them, are takenaway from the courthouse inPretoria with fists raised in defianceafter being convicted on June 16,1964. Accused of treason, theyexpected the death penalty buthave been sentenced to lifeimprisonment. AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

Mandela narrowly escapes thedeath penalty and is sentenced to life at hard labour. The regimeexpects him to fade away, but heand his allies have other plans.

TROUBLE AHEAD: Nelson and Winnie Mandela in a raremoment together before he goes underground and thenlands in jail. INTERNATIONAL DEFENCE-AID FUND FOR SOUTHERN AFRICA

BROTHERS GRIM: It is 1992 and F.W. de Klerk andMandela are not getting along. Talks on power-sharing have stalled. DENIS FARRELL/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

MAGIC MOMENT: On May 10, 1994 – three decades after he was sent toRobben Island as a traitor – Mandela takes the oath of office as SouthAfrica’s first black president. PHILIPPE WOJAZER/REUTERS

TACTICIAN PIONEERPATRIARCH

up an office in exile while Man-dela went underground to createa military wing, the guerrillaforce known as Umkhonto weSizwe (Spear of the Nation).

Although short-lived, Mandela’sstint as an insurgent cost himdearly. He was captured after just17 months, and didn’t regain hisfreedom for 28 years.

He and nine others wereaccused of sabotage, treason andplotting an invasion – crimesthat carried the death penalty.When the trial opened in Octo-ber, 1963, a thin and pale Mande-la delivered an uplifting speechthat lasted four hours.

“During my lifetime,” he con-cluded, “I have dedicated myselfto this struggle of the Africanpeople. I have fought againstwhite domination, and I havefought against black domination.I have cherished the ideal of ademocratic and free society inwhich all persons live together inharmony with equal opportuni-ties. It is an ideal which I hope tolive for and to achieve. But ifneeds be, it is an ideal for which Iam prepared to die.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Banished for lifeto South Africa’s Alcatraz

Rather than die, he was sen-tenced to spend the rest of hislife at hard labour and, at 46, wassent to Robben Island – the Alca-traz of South Africa, five squarekilometres of rock off Cape Town.Cut off from the world, he spent

his days breaking rocks under ablistering sun, damaging his eyespermanently.

But he also was surrounded byfriends and colleagues withwhom he could discuss politicalphilosophy and strategies. Fromthe beginning, he saw his guardsas, not enemies, but fellowhuman beings and also slaves ofthe system he despised. Althoughcourteous, he refused to bow andscrape, as more sadistic wardersdemanded, and steeled himselfinto a superficial equanimity, nomatter the provocation, if only todeny them the satisfaction ofseeing him lose control.

It wasn’t until 1980 that he wasallowed to receive newspapersand, as the ANC marked the 25thanniversary of the Freedom Char-ter, a Free Mandela movementtook root, enveloping white liber-als in South Africa and even theUnited Nations Security Council.Within five years, successive pro-tests and violent reprisals hadmade the country almost ungov-ernable. But “the most discour-aging moments,” Mandela insists

in his autobiography, Long WalkTo Freedom, “are precisely thetime to launch an initiative.”

He began a long series of meet-ings with the government thatculminated in his astonishingand unconditional release fiveyears later. On Feb. 11, 1990, at theage of 71, he walked out of prisonholding Winnie’s hand and, atCape Town’s City Hall, made hisfirst public speech since his trial,carefully presenting himself asthe servant, rather than the mas-ter, of his party and his people.

“Your tireless and heroic sacri-fices have made it possible forme to be here today,” he said. “Itherefore place the remainingyears of my life in your hands.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

‘Exhausted heavyweight boxersat the end of a long title bout’

After a triumphant world tourthat made him a magnet for ce-lebrities of all stripes, hereturned home to negotiate thetransition to majority rule.

By late 1993, elections were slat-ed for the following spring, andboth Mandela and F.W. de Klerk,the final apartheid-era president,looked like “exhausted heavy-weight boxers at the end of along title bout,” The Guardianreported that December, whenthey arrived in Oslo to receivethe Nobel Prize.

At 75, an age when most politi-cians have retired to play golf,Mandela became a first-time can-didate for public office and was

easily elected his country’s firstblack president, leading aGovernment of National Unity.

Although not burdened by thebaggage most politicians accum-ulate as they rise to the top, Man-dela clearly lacked legislativeexperience, as did most of hiscabinet. He was determined tosupport rogue regimes that hadhelped in the struggle, includingthose of Fidel Castro and Moam-mar Gadhafi. But in other areas,his principles softened.

As Canadian author NaomiKlein points out in The ShockDoctrine: The Rise of Disaster Cap-italism, just two weeks before hisrelease, Mandela insisted that na-tionalizing South Africa’s mines,banks and major industries wasANC policy and so “unavoidable.”

Yet, to prevent a potential civilwar and the withdrawal of inter-national support, he went againstnot only his stated economic pol-icy but some basic clausesenshrined in the Freedom Char-ter. His government agreed toassume the national debtincurred by apartheid regimes, toguarantee civil servants theirjobs, to protect private property(thus almost ruling out landreform) and to make the centralbank independent of the govern-ment (thus protecting it fromattempts to redistribute thenational wealth). The ANC alsoagreed to sign on to the GeneralAgreement on Tariffs and Trade,the precursor to the World TradeOrganization, the World Bank

and the International MonetaryFund, which reassured financialmarkets, but made a radical over-haul of the country’s economicpower base almost impossible.

Even his personal life wasn’timmune to a change of heart.Winnie’s flagrant philanderingprompted the couple to separatein 1992. When their divorce casewas heard four years later, Man-dela described his loneliness tothe court, explaining that, sincehis release, she had refused todiscuss their problems and “notonce has she ever entered mybedroom while I was awake.”

Also in 1996, the Truth and Rec-onciliation Commission began itshearings under Archbishop Des-mond Tutu. The goal was to letanyone with grievances air themand anyone who had done wrongconfess and seek forgiveness.

The ANC considered the pro-cess essential to the peacefultransition to full democracy, butsome critics argued that true rec-onciliation requires justice underthe law.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Finds love and champions many causes late in life

After just one term in office,Mandela retired from politics in1999. In his later years, he createda foundation to assist South Afri-ca’s children and joined the fightagainst HIV-AIDS, a cause heembraced with passion at leastpartly because he had failed todo enough while in power.

“This is a war,” he said. “It haskilled more people than … in allprevious wars and in all previousnatural disasters. We must notcontinue to be debating, to bearguing, when people are dying.”

He also found love late in life.On his 80th birthday in 1998, hemarried Graça Machel, widow ofSamora Machel, the first presi-dent of an independent Mozam-bique. The two spent their time,with their grandchildren, largelyat her home in Mozambique andat the house on his ancestralproperty at Qunu. Increasinglyfrail, the man known to all by hisclan name, Madiba, usuallywalked with a cane.

In 2007, he went to London tosee a bronze statue of himselfunveiled in the square acrossfrom Parliament near the like-nesses of Winston Churchill andAbraham Lincoln.

In his speech, he recalled hisvisit to the city 45 years earlier,after he had gone undergroundand Oliver Tambo had come toLondon to open an office for theoutlawed ANC. Wandering theimperial city, the two revolution-aries noted the many monu-ments to dead white men,including Jan Smuts, legendaryleader of the Boer rebellion wholater became South Africa’sprime minister. They vowed thatone day there would be a statuehonouring them as well,

But it was said half in jest, Man-dela admitted. They never reallythought that it, like so manythings, perhaps, would happen.

It did, but only because of a re-markable man as well as a monu-mental change in human andpolitical values.

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‘I stand here … not as a prophet but as a humble servant of you, the people.

Your … sacrifices have made it possible for me to be here today. I therefore

place the remaining years of my life in your hands. Today, the majority of

South Africans, black and white, recognize that apartheid has no future’

Nelson Mandela after his release

From the stirring speech he gave to a cheering throng outside Cape Town’s City Hall on Feb. 11, 1990

GREAT ESCAPE: The triumphantwalk with Winnie through CapeTown after his much-anticipatedrelease. He tells the crowd thatapartheid’s days are numbered.Within five years, South Africansmake him their first blackpresident. GREG ENGLISH/ASSOCIATED PRESS

1990After years of international pressureand internal strife, Mandela is freed,ready to lead his nation, throughmuch fear but more hope, down thehome stretch to true democracy.

HAPPY TOGETHER: Mandela and Graça Machel on July 18, 1998 – his 80thbirthday and the day they marry. Three decades his junior, she soon comesto act as his representative to the world. ASSOCIATED PRESS

YOUNG AT HEART: Awestruck youngsters surround the seemingly ageless icon at his home in the Johannesburgsuburb of Houghton on the eve of his 92nd birthday in 2010.DEBBIE YAZBEK-NELSON/MANDELA FOUNDATION

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INSPIRATION

NELSON MANDELA: 1918-2013

ROMANTIC

T H E G LO B E A N D M A I L • W E D N E S DAY , D E C E M B E R 3 1 , 1 9 6 9

THE EARLY YEARS

Family sacrifice: Disillusioned withhis political activities and frequentabsences, first wife Evelyn, top leftwith sons Thembi and Makgatho,leaves him in 1956.

HOME AND AWAY. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Most likely to succeed: An archivist,top right, pinpoints young Nelson ina class photo believed to be theearliest surviving image ofhim. DENIS FARRELL/THE CANADIAN PRESS

Wedding Winnie, above left: He is40 and she is just 22 on their bigday in May, 1958. REUTERS

Outgunned: A man, right, accusedof heeding the ANC call for defianceis bound for prison in the back ofFord pickup. AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

Defiant ones: At far right, he conferswith fellow ANC Youth leadersWalter Sisulu, left, and HarrisonMotlana in 1952 after a campaign todefy the government’s new policyknown as apartheid.JURGEN SCHADEBERG/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

He knew it could be his lastchance to exercise the right

he had devoted his life to win-ning, protecting and preserving.Old and too frail to leave hishouse, Nelson Mandela had theballot box brought to him.

A municipal election, it wasone that South Africans, alienat-ed by the corruption and indiffe-rence of their local governments,seemed to care little about. Yetthe TV coverage of Mr. Mandela,fast approaching 93 and going tosuch lengths to cast his vote,seemed to galvanize the electo-rate. Instead of declining, aswidely expected, the turnout wasabove average.

Nelson Mandela helped tocreate one of the healthier de-mocracies found in Africa, des-pite the economic inequality andhigh unemployment that persist.Here, unlike so many Africannations, voting is peaceful andwell-organized, election afterelection – largely because of hisspirit and his unwavering beliefin racial co-existence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Fears unfounded

But will this legacy survive, orwill South Africans, despite 20years of nurturing by their liber-ation hero, stray from the demo-cratic path now that he hasgone? There are scandals, extre-mists and the occasional race-baiting speech – yet South Africahas stuck to the path that Mr.Mandela blazed.

When I moved to South Africaat the end of 2008, he was al-ready retired and living largely inseclusion, his health deteriorat-ing. Yet I witnessed how hefought to keep democracy alivein his fractious country.

At the final rally of the 2009national election, I watched himstruggle painfully up the stairs toa stage at Johannesburg’s EllisPark Stadium to give his supportto the African National Congress(ANC). A few days later, I sawhim cast his ballot in Houghton,the suburb where he lived. Iremember how the voters liningup outside the polling stationburst into song, euphoric at thesight of him.

In July, 2010, I heard a crowd of

84,000 cheer like thunder whenhe appeared, briefly, at SoccerCity stadium – an eruption ofgratitude for his vision of a non-racial South Africa and his fear-less campaign to play host to theWorld Cup, an event that in-spired and united people of allraces. South Africa was awardedthe cup because Mr. Mandela wasmore than just the man who hadended the tyranny of apartheid.He had become a moral beaconwho inspired the world with thepower of possibilities.

He lived in an age of ideology,yet he floated above politics.While in office, he made mis-takes because he knew little ofeconomics or administration, buthis core beliefs – racial reconcili-ation, forgiveness, personal sacri-fice, confidence in the goodnessof humanity and a willingness toadmit to shortcomings – wereuniversal values and struck aprofound chord among peopleeverywhere.

The details of his life, like thoseof the Dalai Lama or Mikhail Gor-bachev, have long been surpassedby the mythology of a globalicon, the magnetism of celebrityand the inspiration people tookfrom his legend. He was shrewdenough to recognize this, and totransform it into a force for good.Even in his final years, he chosehis public causes wisely, trans-forming his fame and charismainto a moral movement. Peoplecalled it the “Mandela magic.” Itsomehow helped people to dis-cover their own goodness.

As former U.S. president BillClinton put it, “Every time Nel-son Mandela walks into a room,we all feel a little bigger. We allwant to stand up, we all want tocheer, because we’d like to behim on our best day.”

In his final years, he came upwith another master stroke: Hetransformed his birthday, July 18,into an international day of sacri-fice. Mandela Day has become acall to everyone in the world todevote 67 minutes to humanitar-ian work – one minute for everyyear that he spent struggling toliberate his country.

Today, that country has no oneof his moral stature to take hisplace. But predictions of ruina-

tion were proved wrong after hedeparted the political stage, andlikely will be confounded again.

His work was flawed, his poli-cies at times indecisive – yet hisfundamental values remain resil-ient; his struggle has been won.

Consider Jacob Zuma, one ofhis political heirs. After becom-ing president in 2009, Mr. Zumawas ridiculed in the media for hispolygamous habits, his lack offormal education, his love ofsong and dance, and his occa-sional difficulties with the law.But he accepted and promotedthe essential Mandela ideas:courting minorities, learningsome Afrikaans, building a multi-racial cabinet – and even discodancing with the white leader ofthe opposition.

If a South African politician cango to such lengths to avoid con-flict – with Mr. Mandela virtuallyabsent from the political stage –it seems clear that the countrywill survive the great man’sdeath. His values were strongerthan his faltering health, andthey will carry on after him.

Demagogues and rogues stillthrive here, as they do anywhere.But note what happened in 2011when a black government officialmused that mixed-race SouthAfricans should be relocated sothat they are less numerous intheir Western Cape stronghold.The suggestion was swiftly shotdown by a powerful cabinet min-ister, Trevor Manuel, who quotedMr. Mandela’s famous declara-tion that “I have fought againstwhite domination and I havefought against black domina-tion.” The fact he was doing sonearly five decades after theywere spoken is well worth noting.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Oft-blemished record

Mr. Mandela was no saint, butsomehow became more like onewhen his failings were exposed.

Late in life, his weaknesseswere dissected more aggressively.Young Mandela, by British authorDavid James Smith, documentedhis troubled personal life andearly sexual adventures. Anotherbook, by prominent scholar andjournalist R.W. Johnson,denounced the “Mandela cult”

and portrayed its hero as naiveand powerless, someone whoobediently recited speechesscripted by others, allowing hiscountry to drift into the hands ofvenal political figures.

Even his allies said he hadmade errors. “His one weaknesshas been his unshakable loyaltyto his comrades,” ArchbishopDesmond Tutu wrote in an intro-duction to a biography of Mr.Mandela. This was true. He wasexcessively loyal to the ANC,even its worst leaders. And he ig-nored the human-rights abusesof countries such as Libya andCuba because they had support-ed the ANC in its anti-apartheidstruggle in the 1980s.

It was also true that, ratherthan try to conceal his failings,Mr. Mandela often admittedthem. “I was not a messiah, butan ordinary man who hadbecome a leader because ofextraordinary circumstances,” heonce said. He abandoned hislong-held communist beliefs inthe 1990s when he realized theywould have destroyed the econo-my. He had ignored the devastat-ing AIDS crisis when it first hitAfrica, yet he later admitted hismistake and led the battleagainst the disease, even fightingits stigma by revealing that hisown son had died of AIDS.

This ability to admit mistakes,the most human trait of all, waslinked clearly to his core belief inthe power of reconciliation andforgiveness. He invited one of hisformer prison guards, a whiteman, to attend his presidentialinauguration. He invited his for-mer apartheid prosecutor tolunch. And he journeyed to theAfrikaner town of Orania, thesymbol of intransigent oppos-ition to black rule, to have teawith the widow of Hendrik Ver-woerd, the architect of apartheid.

This, in the end, was the greatinspiration for the world. He wasthe man who suffered and choseto forgive. “He took our breathaway with his magnanimity,”Archbishop Tutu said. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Geoffrey York is The Globe andMail’s National Newspaper Award-winning Africa correspondent,based in Johannesburg.

MANDELA’S MEMORY

Man of principles built to lastNelson Mandela was only human, Globe and Mail correspondent Geoffrey York writes, but his core values are universal and enduring. ‘Gloomy predictions of his country’sruination after his departure from the political stage have repeatedly been proved wrong,’he reports from Johannesburg, ‘and are likely to be confounded again’

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His one weakness has been

his unshakable loyalty

to his comrades.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu Mandela tapped the Anglicanleader, also an anti-apartheidactivist, to head his Truth andReconciliation Commission

Every time Nelson Mandela

walks into a room, we all feel

a little bigger. We all want to

stand up, we all want to cheer,

because we’d like to be him

on our best day.

Bill Clinton Mandela showed the U.S. presidenthis tiny jail cell during a 1998 visitto Robben Island

I was… an ordinary man

who had become a leader

because of extraordinary

circumstances.

Nelson Mandela From his famous speech to thecrowd in Cape Town on the day he was released from prison

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HEEDING THE CALL

THE FIGHTER AND HIS CAUSE

Above left: Nelson Mandela lendssupport to women marching toPretoria – going to the capital in1959 to protest against laws denyingfreedom of travel to non-whites.PETER MAGUBANE/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Left: Also in 1959, Durban police useclubs to disperse rioters afterwomen set fire to a beer hallbecause the authorities raided theirhome-brewing operations.THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Above: The star defendant flashes asmile as he leaves court in 1958during his first treason trial. The casegrinds on for four years and ends inacquittals for all accused.JÜRGEN SCHADEBERG/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Bottom: In a famous 1957 imagecaptured by one of the era’s fewblack photojournalists, the amateurboxer and future president sparswith national champ Jerry Moloi.Both train at the same club.BOB GOSANI/NEWSCOM

Nelson Mandela’s village lies at the end of a longand bumpy dirt road that sees few cars but

many cows, donkeys, goats, sheep and rondavels –the tiny round huts that are still the main form ofhousing around here.

Nearly a century has passed since the future anti-apartheid hero was born here in 1918, yet the wom-en still make the long two-hour walk to the MbasheRiver to fetch water. Families still sleep on mats onthe floor of their huts. Mothers still feed their fami-lies by cooking in cast-iron pots over outdoor fires,just as Mr. Mandela described in his memoirs.

The region had always been poor. Yet, when hislong imprisonment was over in 1990, and he madethe trek home to the barren rolling hills of the East-ern Cape, Mr. Mandela was shocked by the povertyhe encountered – and little has changed since.South Africa has ended apartheid, but its economicinequalities are as stark as ever.

Qunu, the nearby village where his father movedthe family when Mr. Mandela was 2, has fared bet-ter than most. It is where South Africa’s first demo-cratically elected president chose to build hisretirement villa, on the highway to the regionalcapital, and a new museum has helped to bring intourist dollars.

But communities on the back roads, far from themajor thoroughfares, suffer from neglect. Mvezohas electricity and water pumps, but both workonly sporadically. There is still no health clinic, nosecondary school, no running water. The main de-velopment is the “Great Place” (political headquar-ters) of Mr. Mandela’s grandson, Mandla, anambitious young politician who became the villagechief in 2007.

A descendant of one branch of the Thembu royalfamily, Mr. Mandela watched proudly as the regallion skin was draped over the young man’s shoul-ders. But one of Mandla’s first acts was to tear downthe ruins of the rondavel where his grandfather hadbeen born, and put up a collection of replica hutsdesigned to show tourists what it was like back inthe old days.

The loss of the ruins infuriated the historians atthe Mandela Museum in the nearby city ofMthatha, who had wanted the site preserved.

How did the voters feel? It didn’t really matter.The traditional king of the Thembu tribe decideswho Mvezo’s chief will be, not its people. Traditionand the needs of a modern democracy are often atodds, and as it moves into the future, South Africais still looking for a way to balance the two.

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FRAYED ROOTSGeoffrey York finds Mandela’sbirthplace trapped in the past -- and in perpetual poverty

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MVEZO, SOUTH AFRICA. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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SHARPEVILLE AND THE PATH TO PRISON

T H E G LO B E A N D M A I L • W E D N E S DAY , D E C E M B E R 3 1 , 1 9 6 9

ON THE RUN, ON DISPLAYFar right: Mr. Mandela sports abeard in 1962, after returning fromabroad and going into hiding. REUTERS

Right, below: Later that year, afterhis capture, the Xhosa prince donstribal regalia for a court appearance.CULLEN LIBRARY

A TERRIBLE TURNING POINT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Mr. Mandela’s road to Robben Islandbegins on March 21, 1960, in theTownship of Sharpeville when policeopen fire with horrific results: 69dead, almost 200 wounded. In theaftermath, the governmentbans the ANC, which then sends himunderground to launch the armeduprising that leads to his arrest.

Above, right: Soon after themassacre, demonstrators marchinto Durban. Violence sweeps thecity and again police open fire, thistime shooting over people’s heads.Top left: Six months later, as thisposter advocates, white SouthAfricans vote to become a republicand leave the Commonwealth.THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Right: Tending to Sharpeville’smany wounded. AFP/GETTY IMAGES

The most remarkable wedding I have everattended took place on June 19, 1986, in a court-

room in Delmas, a farming community 75 kilo-metres east of Johannesburg.

Lazarus More, 27, married Golda Maphisa, 25, hischildhood sweetheart and a weeping bride.

Mr. More was on trial for high treason. He was oneof the “Delmas 22,” charged with carrying out an al-leged call from Nelson Mandela and the AfricanNational Congress to “make the townships ungov-ernable” by igniting violence that had left 2,000dead in the Vaal Triangle, a region just south ofSouth Africa’s biggest city.

It was the most important political case since thetrial more than two decades earlier that led to Nel-son Mandela being jailed for life. Once again, all ofthe defendants faced the death penalty, although inthe end none of those convicted was executed andmost went on to play major roles in post-apartheidSouth Africa.

One of the accused, Geoffrey Moselane, was anAnglican priest and assisted in the ceremony. Thebest man, Patrick Lekota, was also a defendant,which meant that even his wedding speech couldnot be reported. Known as Terror (for his soccerprowess, not his political activism), Mr. Lekota wenton to become a cabinet minister.

Terry Waite, representing the Archbishop of Can-terbury, global Anglicanism’s titular leader, carriedthe wedding cake into the courtroom. (Sevenmonths later, he was kidnapped in Lebanon andfamously held captive for almost four years.) Arch-bishop Desmond Tutu, then Anglican primate-electof South Africa, carried the bride’s bouquet.

Rev. Simeon Nkoane, assistant bishop of Johan-nesburg, married the couple. Then he announcedthat they’d be apart on their wedding night becauseauthorities wouldn’t let the bride into ModderbeePrison, where the groom was confined. When theywere pronounced man and wife, Archbishop Tutubroke into song and boogied toward the cake.

The police videotaped the entire event. When theaudience stood to sing a hymn, they did, too, andthey didn’t object when the Archbishop sang NkosiSikelel’ iAfrika (God Bless Africa), the black national-ist standard that is now South Africa’s anthem.

Referring to the surveillance, a woman guest said:“It would be sweet of them to present the couplewith a copy of the video as a wedding gift.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Michael Valpy

NOTABLE NUPTIALSGroom accused of treasonwith a best man known as a real ‘Terror’. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Nelson Mandela walked out ofVictor Verster Prison on Feb.

11, 1990, to redeem the SouthAfrica that I had encounteredjust a few years before – one con-sumed with hate and stress.

That first evening, he stood onthe steps of Cape Town’s baroqueCity Hall before 50,000 of his fel-low citizens and proclaimed acountry of reconciliation and sal-vation, a country of liberty forblacks. “We have waited too longfor our freedom,” he said. “Wecan no longer wait. Today, themajority of South Africans, blackand white, recognize that apart-heid has no future.”

“Amandla!”– power, he roared.I had arrived six years earlier as

The Globe and Mail’s first corre-spondent in Africa since the early1960s. The continent was mydomain, but the main assign-ment was South Africa’s last racewar, its civil war over apartheid.

By then, Madiba – his clanname was Mr. Mandela’s title ofrespect – had spent two decadesisolated behind bars for treason,first on Robben Island and thenin Cape Town’s Pollsmoor Maxi-mum Security Prison; he was anicon of hope few had ever seen.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

‘Only free men can negotiate’

By the time I left in late 1987,barred from South Africa by itswhite-supremacist government,Mr. Mandela’s fortunes had risensignificantly. He had been movedinto a private house at min-imum-security Victor Versteramid the vineyards of the West-ern Cape and had, in fact, turneddown an offer of release. It camewith a condition – that he rejectviolence as a political weapon –and “only free men can nego-tiate,” he said in a statementmade public by his daughter.

I was there when Zindzi read itto a cheering crowd in a Sowetofootball stadium – the first wordsSouth Africans had heard fromMr. Mandela since his 1964 trial.

Then on Jan. 18, 1989, P.W.Botha, known to Afrikaners asDie Groot Krokodil (The Big Croc-odile), suffered a stroke thateventually forced him from thepresidency. His successor, F.W. deKlerk, soon announced that anti-apartheid groups such as the

African National Congress (ANC)would be legal again – and thatMr. Mandela would be released.

But the darkness had to comebefore the dawn.

During nearly four years as TheGlobe’s correspondent, I wit-nessed South Africa’s slide intobloody chaos. The ANC’s 1985 callfrom its headquarters in Zambiato make the black townships un-governable triggered uprisings,riots, bombings and the violent,at times lethal, overthrow of mu-nicipal authorities accused of col-laborating with the apartheidstate. The government retaliatedwith a series of states of emer-gency that unleashed a savageand deadly counter-assault bythe army and police.

It was a compelling story, andone difficult to cover.

State-of-emergency regulationsrequired journalists to leave thescene of any “unrest” immediate-ly. Subsequently, the governmentimposed censorship, barring themedia from reporting “subver-sive statements” deemed, amongother things, to encourage for-eign economic sanctions orweaken the public’s confidencein government actions. Filmingor recording the work of securityforces was prohibited.

But the government’s biggesthammer was held over journal-ists whose employers adhered toa Commonwealth resolution notto base correspondents in SouthAfrica, but instead park themacross the border in Zimbabwe.

The downside to this principledstance was that Canadian corre-spondents in Harare had to applyfor a new visa and work permitevery three months rather thanonce a year. If the governmentdidn’t like what we wrote, the re-newal took longer and longeruntil, in my case, I was told therewould be none. There was noth-ing to do but go home.

I returned to Canada withmemories of battle-zone blacktownships and clouds of tear gasand oily smoke from burningtires and the terrifying roar ofarmoured troop carriers, of massfunerals with white coffins forchildren, of mothers too angry toweep, of Desmond Tutu and hisAnglican priests kneeling as mili-tary vehicles bore down on them.

While covering all this, I drovewounded children to get help,one little boy with his face halftorn off by a police shotgun blast(the police fired at randomwhereas soldiers stopped andtook aim). His mother and I gothim to a doctor, but his nurse,standing arms akimbo at thedoor, said to take him elsewhere.

I was tear-gassed, detained andeven kidnapped by a gang ofteens who had firebombed a li-quor store in the middle of a riotand commanded me to drivethem away from the police.When they got out of my car,they raised their fists and shout-ed, “Amandla!” So did I. In fact, Iwould have saluted anything –they had threatened to kill me.

I went to funerals, sometimesas the only white in an ocean ofblack faces, and was escortedcourteously by marshals to afront-row seat. I had rocks and agasoline bomb (fortunately itdidn’t explode) thrown at my caras police pulled me to safety.

I watched Anglican BishopSimeon Nkoane, fierce like a bib-lical prophet, stride into a crowdpreparing to “necklace” a sus-pected informer (by igniting agasoline-filled tire around hisneck) and pull him from harm.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

‘Bleck’ and white

In this civil war, journalists knewboth sides equally well. One day,I’d be sitting in an anti-apartheidleader’s living room having teaand, two days later he’d be gone,whisked away by the security po-lice, disappeared for months.

Then I’d be meeting a cordialpublic servant responsible forenforcing apartheid’s high creed:the pass laws controlling themovement of blacks (“blecks,” asthey’d say) in the country.

The anti-apartheid opstoker, ortroublemaker, vanished into jail48 hours after I interviewed himin 1984 and didn’t reappear untilthe following year, when hebecame chairman of the newlyformed Release Mandela Com-mittee, which was soon banned.

The public servant was com-missioner of suburban CapeTown’s Langa influx-controlcourt. Five days a week, he pulledhis blue Audi up to the yellow

WITNESS TO HISTORY

How South Africa moved Amid the tumult that led to Mandela’s release, The Globe’s Michael Valpyhad the thrill of watching a dream come true – and some very close calls. Along with the violence and the hate, he encountered bravery, the Bible andabundant proof that ‘a society under stress produces greatness’

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LIFE AT HARD LABOUR

THE VERDICT: A ONE-WAY TRIPTO ROBBEN ISLAND. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Top left: Winnie Mandela (in hat), at27 almost two decades youngerthan her husband, leaves court inPretoria on June 16, 1964, after he issentenced. AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Top, centre: The front page of aSouth African newspaper showssome of the incriminating evidenceseized from an ANC safe house andpresented during the trial.RADU SIGHETI /REUTERS

Above, left: Irate at the outcome,women protest in front of thePalace of Justice inPretoria. AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Above, right: Less than a year later,she is subjected to a long list ofrestrictions, which range frombeing banned from her job as asocial worker and her collegestudies to taking her own childrento school. THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Above: Nelson Mandela as heappears just before being ent toprison for life in 1964. REUTERS

How to conceive of a SouthAfrica – no, a world – with-

out Nelson Mandela, our Madiba,whose matchless humanity wasbountiful enough for us to sharewith the world? For myself, I canonly be infinitely grateful that Iknew him personally, that hetouched my life.

He knew beyond question thatthe struggle for freedom from thesubjection by whites, whichbegan in the 17th century andreached grim culmination asapartheid, could be achievedonly by blacks themselves, asboth a political battle and aninward escape from victimhood.

He also recognized the indivisi-bility of human freedom, and thededication to this which con-firmed the necessity and right ofwhites to serve within the strug-gle for justice against racism.There were the greats – leaderssuch as Joe Slovo, Helen Joseph,Ruth First, Ronnie Kasrils, BeyersNaude – and there were others,like myself, who associated, atsome risk, with the AfricanNational Congress in the move-ment toward the ultimate integ-rity. As George Steiner put it,“Men are accomplices to thatwhich leaves them indifferent.”

I met Nelson Mandela duringthe first treason trial, which end-ed in 1961, introduced by Antho-ny Sampson, the friend andBritish journalist who later wrotethe first and best biography ofthe man. There were some tasks Icould do for him and the ANC, asa writer and as an African whoseskin colour was not a definitionin his eyes. Seen by me in hind-sight, they were never enough.

Mr. Mandela was like that forSouth Africans of all colours. Hecame from way up in the hierar-chy of traditional African society.But, unlike others on that ances-tral level, he did not see that rev-erence and respect for this meantdistorting its relevance by oppos-ing the laws of our democraticConstitution with traditional law.

He maintained a deep sense ofthe African self in synergy withan understanding of Africa’splace in the contemporary world,evolving along with it. You donot emerge from the isolation ofracism to confine your country tosome other, chosen isolation.

Mr. Mandela responded – withhis life – unsparingly to what cul-tural critic Edward Said called “akind of historical necessity,” theradical “spontaneity” that Frenchcolonial thinker Frantz Fanonsaw in Africa’s oppressed masses.He was never afraid of speakingout when confronted with some-thing he considered wrong.

Even in his “retirement” afterserving as president, he riskedappearing disloyal to his countryby tearing away the veil of “polit-ical correctness” to decry thegovernment’s inadequate re-sponse to the epidemic of HIV-AIDS decimating its population.

A great leader, moral worldleader as Madiba became, is seen,rightly and in awe, as one whohas put the lives of others, hispeople, first, before any life of hisown. All this means that such aman belongs to his people in anemotional dimension as well.

Mr. Mandela did this uncom-promisingly. For example, little isknown of the immense sorrowhe endured when, after 27 yearsof imprisonment, he was facedwith the fact that the life withthe woman he so loved andlonged for was no longer there tobe taken up. I happen to havebeen with him then, privatelyone day, and was privy to his des-olation. Nelson Mandela was awhole man, who experiencedkeenly all of human being. It waspart of his strength.

To remember him, not only inhomage but lovingly and on alighter note, he would not wishhis indestructible sense ofhumour forgotten. On his mar-riage to Graça Machel, whichbrought him happiness late inlife, he was asked by a journalistwhether he objected to her deci-sion to keep the name of her latehusband, Mozambique’s firstpost-colonial president.

His response? Mock relief: “Oh,I’m so glad she didn’t ask me tochange my name to hers!”

A sly bow to the feminists? Toyet another of human justice?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Writer and social activist NadineGordimer was one of the firstfriends to meet Nelson Mandelaafter his release in 1990. A year lat-er, she was awarded the Nobel Prizefor Literature.

MAN OF HIS PEOPLE

‘I can only be infinitely gratefulthat he touched my life’Looking back especially for Globe and Mail readers, Nobel laureate Nadine Gordimer describes whather old friend meant – to her and to his country

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one-storey, building , went inside,donned a black robe, and begandispensing justice. Before thelaws he administered wererepealed, almost 20 million peo-ple had been arrested, fined,imprisoned or deported to so-called independent homelands.

The clergy figured prominentlyin my South Africa. It was on thedoors of priests, Anglican andRoman Catholic alike, that Iknocked when I went into town-ships then burning and bloodiedby “unrest.” They knew it wasagainst the law, but they stillopened up, introducing me totheir communities and lettingme use their churches or homesto interview people.

The fierce Bishop Nkoanecouldn’t remember my name,but he never forgot my national-ity. Once he hid me from securitypolice in a church basement inSoweto. After the thumping ofthe boots overhead had faded, adoor opened and he bellowed:“Come up, Canada. Come up intothe sunshine of the Lord!”

Foreign correspondents wererequired to report regularly toSouth Africa’s capital to be lec-tured by the bureau for informa-tion (the censors) on objectiveand balanced reporting.

Sitting in Pretoria one day, Ihad an epiphany: How, I askedmyself, could reporting aboutapartheid possibly be objectiveor balanced? Unable to come upwith an answer, I soon noticed Iwas waiting longer and longer formy permit renewals. Brian Mul-roney also may have been toblame; as prime minister, hespoke forcefully in favour ofsanctions, and was the only West-ern leader to visit South Africa’sANC-friendly neighbours.

The authorities were no hap-pier with my successor. OaklandRoss waited six weeks for his firstvisa, then wrote something theregime didn’t like, was barred fortwo years, then allowed back infor only two weeks. Before long,he, too, had to return to Canada,and The Globe closed its bureau –until the amazing StephanieNolen reopened it in 2003, thistime in Johannesburg.

All of which meant the paperhad no staffer in the countrywhen Mr. de Klerk turned South

Africa upside down and Mr. Man-dela walked out of Victor Verster.But to my surprise, the govern-ment let me back in, so I couldreport on the remarkable wake ofthe release: the period in whichhope struggled against fear.

The nightmare – total socialbreakdown – failed to material-ize, of course, but South Africa’snew dawn didn’t break for every-one once Mr. Mandela was free.People like young LivingstoneZuma had to wait a while. Policeshot him twice in the stomach inApril, 1990, during Natal prov-ince’s bitter war between ANCsympathizers and Zulu leaderMangosuthu Buthelezi’s InkathaFreedom Party, which the regimenakedly backed.

When paramedics refused torescue a Mandela supporter, Ihelped another volunteer dragMr. Zuma, under fire, on a blan-ket from his house to our car,then drive wildly through thedark to Pietermaritzburg insearch of a hospital. He lost con-sciousness, slumped against meand bled silently down my pantsbut lived, I think.

Years later, the ANC’s JacobZuma became president and I re-alized that, like Livingstone, hetoo came from Natal. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lasting impressions

As well as my journalism, SouthAfrica indelibly touched my souland my ideal of humanity.

When I went to Africa, I hadceased being a churchgoer. Andthen for nearly four years I sawpeople like Simeon Nkoane andmany others commanded bytheir beliefs to put their lives atrisk. I resumed attending church.

And I was struck by how a soci-ety under stress can producegreatness – great human beingssuch as Nelson Mandela and Des-mond Tutu, along with the chil-dren who confronted police inthe townships, the writers, musi-cians, lawyers, doctors, priestsand sometimes ordinary peoplelike the women of anti-apartheidBlack Sash and bus drivers andteachers and librarians who setaside safety and comfort to servesocial justice.

I was angry at being home incomfortable Canada.

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my soul

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ONE STEP FORWARDAND ONE STEP …. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Conservative hotbeds such asCarletonville, right, a gold-miningtown near Johannesburg, stand byapartheid’s segregationist policiesto the bitter end. This picture couldhave been taken when Mr.Mandela went to Robben Island, not1989, the year before his release.ULLI MICHEL/REUTERS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Zindzi Mandela, middle, galvanizesthe anti-apartheid movement at a1985 rally (attended by The Globe’sMichael Valpy, see Page 4) inSoweto by reading a speech herfather has smuggled out of jail toexplain why he rejects a conditionaloffer of release. He will spend sixmore years behind bars.PETERS/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

LONG-RUNNING BATTLE. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Left: Riot police snuff out a 1986rally at the University of theWitwatersrand, beating blacks andwhites alike. Oddly, the troublebegan when students and staffprotested against their treatmentby police on an earlier occasion. THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

Above: In 1977, visiting journalistscapture this image of ‘a prisonerworking in the garden.’ It shows thefuture president in his 13th year ofincarceration and decades laterappears on the coverof a 2005 collection of photographsand diaries chronicling his time onRobben Island.

In 1989, a sombre MakgathoMandela carries a decorative fruitbasket to the ferry to RobbenIsland, where he, stepmotherWinnie, right, with other family andfriends will celebrate his father’sbirthday. Sixteen years later, hisAIDS-related death (recalled byStephanie Nolen on Page 9) addsgreat poignancy to Madiba’s belatedcampaign against the disease.THE CAPE ARGUS/TRACE IMAGES/REUTERS

Above: A year earlier, Zindzi marksthe occasion in a lighter vein, sport-ing a pair of autographed boxinggloves, a 70th-birthday gift to herfight-loving father from Mike Tyson,then world heavyweightchampion. AFP/GETTY IMAGES

‘Amandla!’ Shortly after his release, his signature salute is captured during a photo session inStockholm that later wins awards but lasts all of 10 minutes. HANS GEDDA/SYGMA/CORBIS

On his second day of freedom, he salutes well-wishers with ANCsecretary-general Walter Sisulu, for50 years a friend, ally and fellowprisoner on Robben Island. Set freefour months earlier, the diminutiveSisulu is six years Mandela’s seniorand passes away in 2003.WALTER DHLADHLA/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

A few weeks later, he is visited athis Soweto home by parliamentar-ian and long-time supporter HelenSuzman. First elected in 1953, shehas come to see him in prison since1967 and recently given up her seatafter 36 years in office. One of thefew white politicians to opposewhite rule, she dies at 91 in 2009.JOHN PARKIN/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

The next day, above, they enjoy amuch quieter stroll in DesmondTutu’s Cape Town garden.WALTER DHLADHLA/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

THE LONG WAIT FOR FREEDOM

Out of sight, out of mind, above:Determined to make Mr. Mandeladisappear, penal authorities allowhim few visitors and ban photo-graphs. This one showing himtalking to Walter Sisulu, right, in1966 was taken by a fellow prisonerand smuggled off the island. In thebackground, inmates can be seenseated and hammering rocks.AKG-IMAGES/AFRICANPICTURES/NEWSCOM

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FROM PRISON TO POWER

THE TRANSFORMATIONA tour to mark his long-awaitedrelease takes him to Ottawa, topleft, to thank apartheid foe BrianMulroney. MOE DOIRON/REUTERS

Back home, he makes peace with,above left, Zulu rival MangosuthuButhelezi ... PATRICK DE NOIRMONT/REUTERS

... and then New York, top right,where the famed amateur fightermeets pro greats Mike Tyson, SugarRay Leonard and boxing impresarioDon King, rear. DAVID TURNLEY/CORBIS

At 75, he hits the campaign trail,middle, with two incredulousbodyguards. ANDREW LICHTENSTEIN/CORBIS

.... and a power-sharing accord withF.W. de Klerk, with whom he sharesthe 1993 Nobel Peace Prize,right. GUNNAR LIER/SCANFOTO REUTERS

On April 26, 1994, his niece in NewZealand, far right, is the first blackperson to cast a vote, hours beforepolls open at home. ASSOCIATED PRESS

When Nelson Mandelaarrived on Robben Island at

dawn on a frigid, rainy morningin July, 1964, it fast became clearto the Afrikaner prison officialsthat he commanded great re-spect among the inmates, that hewas a natural leader. As a conse-quence, they singled him out.

Other prisoners later describedhow, a few years into his incar-ceration, guards ordered him todig and then climb into a grave-shaped trench. He must havewondered whether this was theend. Then, as he lay in the dirt,they unzipped their trousers andurinated on him.

Many years later, an aide askedMr. Mandela to provide a list ofthose he wished to invite to hisinauguration dinner as presidentof South Africa. The great figuresof the liberation struggle wouldbe there, of course, but the solename he’s said to have insistedon was that of a former jailer.

Mr. Mandela lived an extraor-dinary life that showed him to bea skilled tactician, a ruthlessadversary, an able politician, anincisive and catholic thinkerabout liberation and oppression.

But he will be remembered forone quality above all others: hiscapacity to forgive, and to turnthat forgiveness into a visible rec-onciliation. He not only had aphenomenal ability to rise abovebitterness, but clearly had madea conscious decision that thiswas the best route for the liber-ation of black Africans.

But, as well as being a deeplyfelt principle, his singular focuson reconciliation was carefullycalibrated, part of a canny strate-gy when South Africa was heldtogether by promises and prayer.Not only did it redouble interna-tional fascination with him, allSouth Africans began to be credi-ted with the same miraculous ca-pacity for forgiveness.

The drive to reconcile was not anew strategy. In 1962, when hewas convicted of plotting to over-throw the state, Mr. Mandela toldthe court:

“During my lifetime, I have …cherished the ideal of a demo-cratic and free society in whichall persons live together in har-mony and with equal opportuni-ties. It is an ideal which I hope to

live for and to achieve. But ifneeds be, it is an ideal for which Iam prepared to die.”

From the outset, Mr. Mandelatreated his time on RobbenIsland like a project – whichfriend and cellmate Ahmed Kath-rada said in an interview helpedhim to survive such lengthyimprisonment with so little bit-terness. To him, time in jail wasjust another aspect of the battle,comparable to being in the exiledANC headquarters in Lusaka orthe military camps in Angola.

Finally, when a mass uprising ofSouth Africans rendered thecountry ungovernable in themid-1980s, its rulers secretlyopened talks with him and in1987 demanded to know how anANC government would protectthe interests of a white minority.

“I told them,” he wrote in hisautobiography, “that whites wereAfricans as well and that, in anyfuture dispensation, the majoritywould need the minority. ‘We donot want to drive you into thesea,’ I said.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Free at long last

The government balked but thenthree years later, felt it had nochoice, and Mr. Mandela walkedfree. Within months, the newlylegitimate ANC held a conferencein Durban and, Mr. Kathradarecalled, renewed its commit-ment to non-racial democracyand explicitly emphasized theimportance of reconciliation.

All members had to embrace it,whether they had learned aboutit from the secret education cellson Robben Island or in the mili-tary camps in Angola.

Mr. Mandela seemed possessedof an uncanny understanding ofwhat it would take to maintainpeace. In the first days of hispresidency, he took pains tostress that the power of the mas-sive majority he suddenly con-trolled would be used rarely, if atall. He promised that non-blackSouth Africans would retain theirjobs in government, that apart-heid-era agents would be par-doned, and F.W. de Klerk, the lastapartheid leader, would have anactive role in the cabinet.

Another close friend, GeorgeBizos, his lawyer through his

prison years, says even “the con-cession that there should be aninterim government [involvingthe old regime] – that was a Nel-son Mandela-inspired decision.”

Of course, it was the whites –the invaders, colonizers and rul-ers – whom Mr. Mandela empha-sized. They were most in line forforgiveness, and the ones hemost needed to persuade thatthey, too, had a future underdemocratic (thus black) rule.

Few whites believed him, whilemany black South Africanschafed at the suggestion thatthere would not be immediateand dramatic changes. But Mr.Mandela insisted there could be ahappy medium; black South Afri-cans would soon see their livesimprove and whites, whose skillsand capital were needed desper-ately, could be dissuaded frommaking the inelegantly labelled“chicken run.”

“We were practical,” Mr. Kathra-da said. “You are not going todrive three million whites intothe sea, you can’t do it. ... Youaccepted that they are here tostay, this is their country.”

He remembered vividly his firstday in government, as a ministerin the president’s office, present-ed with an empty desk. “Who doI turn to? I turn to the white civilservant and say, ‘I want a pen, Iwant paper, I want a computer, Iwant this, that or the other.’ …We don’t even know how to run alittle village, we’ve never had thevote – so, from a practical pointof view, in addition to policy, wejust had to go out with a policy ofreconciliation, forgiveness.”

And yet he and Mr. Bizos bothemphasized that much of whatMr. Mandela did was a questionof his personal style. Any otherANC leader who became presi-dent would have had non-racial-ism and reconciliation as policy,but the difference lay in how Mr.Mandela lived it. He went to seeBetsie Verwoerd, widow of apart-heid designer Hendrik Verwoerd,sitting down to tea with her inthe whites-only communityhard-liners had carved out forthemselves. He donned a jerseyto support South Africa’s rugbyteam in this whitest of sports andembraced the brawny whiteplayers when they improbably

won the world title. He kept Mr.de Klerk’s fractious personalassistant as his own, alwaysspeaking to her in Afrikaans hehad learned from his jailers. Hemade gestures rich in symbolism,determined to live the policy.

In the five years of his presiden-cy, there was no slaughter ofwhites, none of the black upris-ing that had so long been evokedas the outcome of giving blacksthe vote. Nervous foreign inves-tors were soothed, and thenflooded into the country as theeconomy grew. The guerrillaforce Mr. Mandela had foundedwas folded into the white army,and South Africans told their sto-ries, often stark, before the Truthand Reconciliation Commission.

“Suffering can embitter and itcan ennoble,” explained Arch-bishop Desmond Tutu, who pres-ided over the commission at Mr.Mandela’s request, “and we werevery fortunate that, in Madiba, itdid the latter. … Because youhave forgotten, Madiba went intojail an angry, militant youngman, quite rightly upset at thetravesty of justice that he hadexperienced with his comrades,and the 27 years were quite cru-cial in helping him mellow.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Did he leave office too soon?

Indeed, so inextricably was theidea tied up with Mr. Mandelathat many asked, after he passedthe presidency to Thabo Mbeki –who often made plain his resent-ment of whites – whether heshould have served a secondterm, whether he left a countryuncertain, full of people who didnot yet know or trust each other.

Another question is whetherfriends like Mr. Kathrada are cor-rect that he truly harboured nobitterness or had such self-con-trol that no one ever saw it. Henever offered an answer.

“Although he was … a staunchAfricanist,” Mr. Bizos mused, “itwas in the modified definition –that anyone who lives in SouthAfrica, living through its joys andsorrows, is an African.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now based in New Delhi, StephanieNolen was The Globe and Mail’scorrespondent in Johannesburgfrom 2003 to 2008.

THE NATION-BUILDER

He took vengeance off the tableStephanie Nolen explains Mandela’s dogged insistence on forgiving injusticesso many of his fellow black South Africans couldn’t forget. ‘We were practical,’an old ally tells The Globe’s former Africa correspondent.‘You are not going to drive three million whites into the sea’

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I told them that whites were

Africans as well and that…

the majority would need

the minority.

Nelson Mandelawriting in his autobiography,Long Walk to Freedom

We were practical.

You are not going

to drive three million

whites into the sea.

You can’t do it ...

Ahmed (Kathy) Kathrada,longtime friend, colleague andcell-mate of Nelson Mandela

Suffering can embitter

and it can ennoble

– and we were very fortunate

that, in Madiba,

it did the latter.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu Anglican leader and anti-apartheidactivist asked by Nelson Mandelato preside over the Truth andReconciliation Commission

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MAN OF THE WORLD

A MAN FOR ALL SEASONSFrom top left: South Africa’s firstblack president proves to be achameleon, playing nation builderin 1995 by persuading apartheidholdout P.W. Botha to accept theidea of Truth and Reconciliation.MIKE HUTCHINGS/REUTERS

But the former rebel refuses to shunthe renegades who helped the ANCthrough the lean years, such as, topright, Gerry Adams of Sinn Fein inNorthern Ireland. JUDA NGWENY/REUTERS

He’s also at home in the limelight,whether hobnobbing with theQueen, far left, or having a closeencounter in 1997, centre above,with Prince Charles and the SpiceGirls, pop princesses of the day.JOHN STILLWELL/REUTERS/ASSOCIATED PRESS

Or controversial American activistLouis Farrakhan (in bow tie) of theAfrocentric and isolationist Nationof Islam. PATRICK DE NOIRMONT/REUTERS

And, left, the ultimate bad boy,Libya’s Moammar Gadhafi, whomhe awards South Africa’s highesthonour for a foreigner. REUTERS

The words were stark and tautwith pain. On Jan. 6, 2005,

Nelson Mandela shocked theworld by summoning reportersto his home to announce: “Myson has died from AIDS.”

By disclosing just what hadkilled 54-year-old Makgatho, hissole surviving son, that morning,Mr. Mandela tried to rectify – toatone, some said – for what hademerged as the singular failure ofhis time as South Africa’s leader.

Then, at the funeral, his grand-son, Mandla, revealed, with Mr.Mandela beside him, that a fewmonths earlier the virus also hadkilled Makgatho’s wife.

With these public statements,Mr. Mandela defied the stigmaand shame that kept AIDS deathscloaked in euphemism acrossAfrica – because, even though bythat point 800 people were dyingof AIDS in South Africa every day,no one would say so out loud.

“Let us give publicity to HIV-AIDS and not hide it, because theonly way to make it appear like anormal illness … is always tocome out and to say somebodyhas died because of HIV,” Mr.Mandela said that morning. “Andpeople will stop regarding it assomething extraordinary.”

This was an act of courage, al-though the near-sanctity accord-ed Mr. Mandela insulated himfrom approbation. It was also anact of generosity, the most inti-mate way he had to reach out tothe 26 million Africans livingwith HIV-AIDS. And it was an actof political retribution: In a landwhose government – which hehad fought for – denied thatAIDS existed, he said in the mostirrefutable of ways that it did.

Mr. Mandela was famous for hisforesight, but it failed him onHIV-AIDS, which has done morethan anything to undermine thebright future he envisioned forSouth Africa. He spent much ofhis retirement in an impassionedand largely unsuccessful effort toreverse the damage.

When he took office in 1994,the infection rate already hadreached 10 per cent of sexuallyactive adults. Yet, he never madethe illness a priority. This over-sight is hard to fathom today, butSouth Africa was still relativelyearly in the “death curve” that is

peculiar to HIV, in which infectedpeople take as much as a decadeto become very ill. The effectswere imminent but not evident.

The new republic’s health min-istry had the mammoth job oftrying to deliver basic care to avast majority that had been de-nied it under white rule. AIDSwas just one of many challenges,and Mr. Mandela knew too littleabout it to foresee the impact.

His wife, Graça Machel,explained in a 2006 interviewthat Mr. Mandela was focused onkeeping the country’s tenuouspeace. “Everything was so frag-ile,” she said. “We have a tenden-cy to read history afterward. …Now, because things are muchbetter, they say, ‘Oh, why hedidn’t do this, why didn’t he dothat?’ – that’s human nature.”

Neither was Mr. Mandela com-fortable, as a Xhosa elder, withtalking publicly about a sexuallytransmitted infection – only verylate in life did he speak franklyabout condoms and fidelity.

As president, he delegated thehandling of HIV to Thabo Mbeki,a brilliant deputy and clearly hissuccessor. But Mr. Mbeki, a pas-sionate champion of “an Africanrenaissance,” emerged as theworld’s most prominent HIV de-nier: He questioned whether thevirus really causes AIDS andcalled life-saving antiretroviralmedication toxic, promoting tra-ditional remedies instead.

When Mr. Mandela left office in1999, otherwise lauded for hisperformance, the infection ratehad grown monstrously – beyond20 per cent, and still the countryhad no coherent response.

The situation got worse, as Mr.Mbeki’s administration went tocourt to fight activists seekingtreatment, turning AIDS into apolitical battleground – and thedominant issue of Mr. Mandela’sretirement. Ms. Machel was animpassioned anti-AIDS cam-paigner, but most of all, he sud-denly realized the disease wasn’tjust another health problem.

Mr. Mandela felt “genuine dev-astation at the way people weredying,” Jakes Gerwel, who ran hispresidential office, recalled in aninterview. He also grew increas-ingly alarmed at the impact Mr.Mbeki’s position had on South

Africa’s international reputation.For the first time in 65 years as

a member, he was driven to chal-lenge the ANC, according to MarkGevisser, author of an exhaustivebiography of Mr. Mbeki.

“He was deeply distressed byhis perception of the inability ofserving ANC members to takeMbeki on, and was determined toset an example …,” Mr. Gevissersaid. “He believed Mbeki waswrong, morally and politically.”

He tried to get his successor,now aloof and dismissive, to dis-cuss AIDS, but gave up in 2001,declaring him derelict in his duty.

A new generation of ANC lead-ers rebuked him for meddling.Heckled at a national executivemeeting, he left despondent afterbeing told, “Sit down, old man.”

He no longer held a key partyposition – he hadn’t wanted toovershadow his successor – butthere was still much he could do.

Under the auspices of his well-endowed charitable foundation,he gathered prominent AIDS sci-entists and activists to discuss aplan for South Africa. He had thefoundation pay for the first sub-stantive surveillance researchinto South African HIV infection,then put up the money for twopublic antiretroviral-treatmentprograms. He met the govern-ment’s bête noire – treatment ac-tivist Zackie Achmat – andpublicly donned the highly politi-cized “HIV-positive” T-shirt.

As well, he and Ms. Machelstarted a charity for HIV aware-ness, called 46664 after his Rob-ben Island prison number, thatheld high-profile benefit con-certs, and he mentioned AIDSnearly every time he spoke.

Finally the government agreedto provide treatment, but Mr.Mandela never saw the rate ofnew infections even slow down.

“This is unfair,” Ms. Machel saidof the shadow AIDS cast overSouth Africa. “We deserved tohave a good time, in terms ofputting all our energy, all our ca-pacity into building our nations,to rebuilding our lives, to puttingthe troubles of the past to rest.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stephanie Nolen, a former Globecorrespondent in Johannesburg, isthe author of 28: Stories of AIDS inAfrica (Random House, 2007).

THE AIDS FIASCO

‘Sit down, old man’Painfully slow to realize that a mass killer was preying on his people, Mandela strove to make up for lost time, Stephanie Nolen explains,even if doing so meant breaking tribal tradition and exposed himto ridicule at the hands of his own party

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Nelson Mandela is renowned for his conciliatoryapproach to reshaping South Africa, but few

know what it took for him to choose this path.He was recruited to the African National Congress

in 1943 by Walter Sisulu, the cherished friend des-tined to occupy a cell next to his on Robben Island.Soon, Mr. Mandela and others, such as Oliver Tam-bo and Anton Lembede, were chafing within theANC and joined forces to form its Youth League, thesmall band that would transform the struggle.

They realized that South Africans of both SouthAsian and mixed-race, or “coloured,” descent alsowere fighting for their rights, and some in the ANCwere quick to see the value in working together fora “non-racial” society.

Mr. Mandela, however, still harboured suspicionsof the other races that were fostered by the apart-heid government; to him, non-racialism was un-workable.

One night in the late 1940s, Mr. Sisulu broke ranksover the issue as he, Mr. Mandela and others fromthe Youth League were walking home after meetingSouth Asian students at the University of the Wit-watersrand, where Mr. Mandela studied law.

“He said, ‘Look, chaps, we must work together,we’re all oppressed people,’ ” recalled Ahmed(Kathy) Kathrada, who had been among the SouthAsians at the meeting.

Outraged at his betrayal, Mr. Mandela crossed theroad, refusing to walk with Mr. Sisulu. Only after apivotal event in 1950 did he finally come around.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

South Asian leader hauled off stage

The South African Communist Party (SACP) andthe Indian Congress had called for a strike to markMay Day, but Mr. Mandela didn’t want the ANC toget involved.

“They were not racist," Mr. Kathrada explained,"but exclusivists who felt this must be an Africanstruggle, not in unity with the other groups.”

The ANC even tried to sabotage the strike, which,said the man who wound up sharing his cell onRobben Island, “is where I had my first and onlyserious clash” with Mr. Mandela, who hauled an In-dian Congress leader off the stage during a rally.

But the walkout went ahead, and Mr. Mandelaand Mr. Sisulu were on the edge of a huge crowd inSoweto when, unprovoked, police opened fire onthe peaceful throng, killing 18.

This was the turning point. “Clearly the repres-sion of any one liberation group was a repressionagainst all liberation groups,” Mr. Mandela wrote inhis autobiography.

Thus united, the ANC, coloured and Indiangroups, and the communists (mostly Jewish) soonformed a war council and mounted a national dayof mourning. And because the ANC had adoptednon-racialism, Mr. Mandela did, too.

“Once convinced of the correctness of a certainposition,” Mr. Kathrada explained, “he internalizedit and adopted it – with passion.”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stephanie Nolen

CHANGE OF HEARTHe wasn’t alwayssuch a forgiving soul

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LIFE AFTER POLITICS

BUILDER OF BRIDGESAs the 1990s wind down, he reachesout across the political spectrum.

Clockwise from top left:In 1998, he rubs shoulders withCuba’s Fidel Castro, by now one ofthe few communist leaders still inpower, at a conference in Geneva …PATRICK AVIOLAT/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

Finally, he also sparks a commit-ment to the children of South Africafrom a U.S. media icon, here inJohannesburg in 2002 to watchwork begin on the Oprah WinfreyLeadership Academy for Girls.ALEXANDER JOE/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

Shows U.S. president Bill Clintonthe cell on Robben Island wherehe spent so much of his life …STEVE JAFFE/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

And has a private audience at theVatican with Pope John Paul II.THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

The following year, he visits hisRussian counterpart, Boris Yeltsin,who engineered the final collapse ofSoviet communism. JAPARIDZE/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

A year earlier, Mr. Mandela makeshis third and final visit to Canada,once again addressing Parliament.DAVE CHAN/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

Even after leaving office, hemaintains warm relations withCanada’s Jean Chrétien, herearriving in Johannesburg in 2002… FRED CHARTRAND/THE CANADIAN PRESS

Nelson Mandela’s passing isespecially poignant for Cana-

da. It is hard to think of anotherworld leader shown the respectand affection he enjoyed hereafter his release from prison.

During two of his three visits toCanada, he addressed the jointHouses of Parliament to greatacclaim. On the first, just fourmonths after being freed in 1990,he said he was deeply moved tobe in a place where, unlike apart-heid South Africa, people werefree to determine their destiny.

In 1998, he became the first for-eign leader awarded the Order ofCanada, the nation’s highest hon-our, and 45,000 Toronto childrentreated him to a rapturous wel-come when he launched the Ca-nadian Friends of the NelsonMandela Children’s Fund.

Despite his age and stiff joints,Mr. Mandela joined the dancing.A magical moment. “When youwill be my age,” prime ministerJean Chrétien told the crowd,“you will tell your grandchildren:‘I was there when Nelson Mande-la came to Canada.’ ” On his lastvisit in 2001, he became the firstliving person made an honoraryCanadian citizen.

Competition to hear Mr. Man-dela and to meet him on theseoccasions was fierce. No one, itseemed, had ever supported Can-ada’s trade and diplomatic rela-tions with the apartheid regimethat had imprisoned him. Norhad they ever harboured reserva-tions about his party, the AfricanNational Congress.

In his 1990 speech, Mr. Mandelapaid tribute to the people of Can-ada for helping to overthrowapartheid: Canadian tradeunions, churches, universities,human-rights and solidaritygroups, and the InternationalDefence and Aid Fund for SouthAfrica had spent decades in thetrenches. In particular, the TaskForce on the Churches and Cor-porate Responsibility had weath-ered the ridicule of the businesscommunity and state officials inits battle against business tieswith apartheid South Africa.

He also had come to thank Mr.Chrétien’s predecessor, BrianMulroney, for his willingness tobreak with U.S. president RonaldReagan and British prime minis-

ter Margaret Thatcher over thequestion of South Africa. In 1985,Mr. Mulroney had made a deepimpression in Africa by pledgingat the United Nations to breakeconomic and diplomatic rela-tions if South Africa did notabandon apartheid. His battleswith Mrs. Thatcher over Com-monwealth sanctions againstSouth Africa were legendary.

In official Canada, Mr. Mulro-ney’s approach was pivotal incausing a shift in thinking aboutSouth Africa and the ANC. Formost of the postwar period, in-cluding the Trudeau era, Cana-dian policy had been paradox-ical: to trade and condemn si-multaneously. Canada resisted ef-forts to interfere with its dip-lomatic and commercial rela-tions with South Africa, but thentried to soften the impact by reg-ularly denouncing apartheid ininternational forums. Until wellinto the 1980s, the ANC had diffi-culty getting a hearing in Ottawa,dismissed as an insignificantband of “communist terrorists.”

The tide began to turn only inthe mid-1980s, after a major up-rising in South Africa and the re-alization among Western banks,corporations and governmentsthat apartheid’s days were num-bered. In 1985, the Common-wealth appointed an EminentPersons Group to visit the regionand assess the prospects forpeace. One of its high points wasa meeting with Mr. Mandela, thefirst of its kind during his longincarceration.

Anglican archbishop Ted Scott,one of the eminent persons,returned to give Canada a first-hand account of the man. TheEPG report concluded unequivo-cally that he was a nationalist,not a communist, and had adopt-ed armed struggle only becausehe had no other option.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

‘Has he spoken to you lately?’

Mr. Mulroney agreed, and faceddown his opponents, “Howwould you know he’s a commu-nist? He’s been in jail for 27 years.Has he spoken to you lately? ...

“If I were a young black manimprisoned in South Africa,” headded, “I would support thosewho supported me.”

The prime minister also madeit clear that, while his govern-ment could not condone vio-lence, “we understand the ANC’scontention: ‘You ask us to dropour arms to do what? Acceptmore repression? Accept morebrutality from the apartheid statethat is armed to the teeth?’ ”

Many in Mr. Mulroney’s ownparty, as well as the bureaucracyand private sector, opposed thisnew policy. The wife of one Pro-gressive Conservative MP evencirculated South African propa-ganda calling ANC members “im-moral, non-Christian, Marxist-Leninist revolutionaries.”

In 1987, these circles mounted acampaign against ANC presidentOliver Tambo, Mr. Mandela’sfriend and colleague, on his firstofficial visit to Canada. Mean-while, Mr. Mulroney turned tomore pressing matters, such asthe Constitution and free trade,and some public figures made nosecret of preferring MangosuthuButhelezi, chief minister of theKwazulu homeland and leader ofthe Inkatha Freedom Party.

Two years earlier, The Globeand Mail had called Mr. Buthelezias “authentic a black leader asNelson Mandela” and then inDecember, 1986, “the best hope, if not the only hope, for theemergence of a moderate blackleadership from the ashes ofapartheid.” As late as 1988, aGlobe editorial stated unequivo-cally that there would “never bea President Mandela.”

The historical record shows Mr.Buthelezi was a destructive force,a collaborator who waged abloody campaign to eliminatethe ANC. But it wasn’t until 1993,a year before Mr. Mandela’s presi-dential inauguration, that TheGlobe realized its “best hope”was instead a “spoiler” whocould wreck the whole process.

The antipathy and distrust ofMr. Mandela in the private sectorlasted well after his release. RoyMcMurtry, Canada’s high com-missioner in London, supportedMr. Mulroney’s policy but foundit almost impossible to raise theANC’s profile in the businesscommunity. “Meet Nelson Man-dela?” said one bank chairman.“You have got to be kidding!”

Canadian governments re-

sponded warily to the uncertain-ty and turbulence of the trans-ition period. However, on the keyissue of sanctions, despite strongpressure from the private sectorto end them, Ottawa maintainedits commitment. Canadian sanc-tions weren’t lifted until Septem-ber, 1993 – at Mr. Mandela’srequest. Canada’s government’sparticipation in the internationalbattle against apartheid was late,limited and overblown, but inthis respect it kept the faith.

Mr. Mandela’s rise to the presi-dency in 1994 marked a highpoint in his and South Africa’s re-markable journey. As he walkedhis country through its transi-tion, he became an icon of toler-ance and forgiveness; one of thegreat figures of our time. His de-cision not to cling to power byseeking a second term set anexample for leaders everywhere.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lifted the human spirit

The price he and others paid forending apartheid, in personaland family terms, was steep.However, his ability to rise abovethe worst the apartheid regimecould throw at him and emergefree of bitterness and the desirefor revenge lifted the humanspirit everywhere. As one observ-er put it, he reminds us thatinjustice has a long and hurtfulsay but never the last word.

Mr. Mandela’s significance forCanada is clear. He stands as atestament to the dangers ofknee-jerk prejudice and hazy un-derstanding; proof positive thatone person’s terrorist is anotherperson’s freedom fighter.

The lessons for today – nowthat the word “terrorist” is usedindiscriminately and anti-terror-ist legislation criminalizes manyactivities used in the battleagainst apartheid – are evident.Above all, the story of Canadaand Mr. Mandela should alert usto the enduring importance ofimagination, as well as precision,in Canadian foreign policy.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Linda Freeman is a political scien-tist at Carleton University and au-thor of The Ambiguous Champ-ion: Canada and South Africa inthe Trudeau and Mulroney Years(University of Toronto Press).

MANDELA AND THE MAPLE LEAF

The honorary CanadianHis fondness for far-off Canada wasn’t surprising, as prime ministers from Diefenbaker to Mulroney and Chrétien did so much for his cause. And the feeling seemed mutual: He was made an honorarycitizen, after all. Yet, according to political scientist and Africa specialist Linda Freeman, Canadiansupport wasn’t universal. The business community was in no hurry to jump aboard the ANC bandwagon

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Meet Nelson Mandela?

You have got to be kidding!

A Canadian bank chairmanin response to a request fromRoy McMurtry, then Canada’shigh commissioner in London

How would you know he’s

a communist? He’s been

in jail for 27 years.

Prime minister Brian Mulroneychallenges critics who question Nelson Mandela’s political beliefs

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THE FLAME DIES DOWN

It was after 2 in the morning of a northern CanadaDay when I shook Nelson Mandela’s hand.The story actually begins in the 1980s when, influ-

enced by my left-leaning parents, I boycotted grapesfor Cesar Chavez and learned about apartheid. So,when I was in London and spotted a protest outsideSouth Africa House in Trafalgar Square, I traded asmall donation for a “Free Mandela” pin.

Fast-forward to the summer of 1990: I was in Iqa-luit working two jobs, and my nighttime gig at theRCMP detachment included answering the phone.One night, I started getting calls from reporterswanting to know if Mr. Mandela, out of prison just afew months, really was planning a Baffin Islandstopover after his North American tour. The staff ser-geant said it was true and swore me to secrecy.

But I didn’t keep it completely under my hatbecause I had my then-wife and friends with me as Idrove to the airport to watch Mr. Mandela’s privatejet land. We were behind the chain-link perimeterfence, a good distance away, as a group of Africanswrapped in blankets started toward the terminal.

We jumped on the bumper of the car, shouting hisname. We thought maybe he would wave. But then,to everyone’s surprise, two figures started walkingtoward us: Nelson and Winnie Mandela.

We were all mesmerized by the presence of this in-credible, venerable man, but I just started talking.“Welcome to Canada did you ever think you’d endup in the Arctic what are your plans for the futurewhat do you think about aboriginal peoples?”

He spoke eloquently for almost half an hour, eventhough shivering and probably short on sleep. Even-tually, an aide came over. Local dignitaries had beenwaiting to meet him the whole time we were talking.

“They tell me I really have to go,” he said.So I turned to my wife who had been holding the

Free Mandela pin from Trafalgar Square and handedit to him, saying I didn’t need it any more. And then– I’m not making this up – we reached down andshook hands under that chain-link fence.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sean Maloney as told to Guy Nicholson

NELSON OF THE NORTH Brief encounter on Baffin. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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A passage from Long Walk To Freedom, the autobiog-raphy of Nelson Mandela.

Before crossing the Atlantic, our plane, a small jet,stopped for refuelling in a remote place above

the Arctic Circle. I felt like having a walk in the briskair, and as I was strolling on the tarmac, I noticed …by the fence a dozen or so young people, in their lateteens, who had come out to the airport because theyhad heard our plane was going to stop there.

In talking with these bright young people, Ilearned that they had watched my release on TV andwere familiar with events in South Africa. “VivaANC!” one said.

What struck me so forcefully was how small theplanet had become during my decades in prison; itwas amazing to me that a teenaged Inuit living onthe roof of the world could watch the release of a po-litical prisoner on the southern tip of Africa.

Television had shrunk the world, and …become agreat weapon for eradicating ignorance.

MANDELA’S ACCOUNT. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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THE TWILIGHT YEARS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Leaving office in 1999, he stays re-markably active for an octogenar-ian, touring the world to promotehis causes and rubbing shoulderswith celebs at home and abroad.

Top: He shares a joke with New YorkMayor Michael Bloomberg, left, andactors Robert DeNiro, Hugh Grantand Whoopi Goldberg at the 2002Tribeca Film Festival launch.STAN HONDA/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Second row: At home, he has anespecially busy year in 2005.From left: Civil-rights activist JesseJackson pays his respects. He and wife Graça Machel celebratehis 87th birthday (as well as theirseventh wedding anniversary).A sadder occasion is the memorialfor biographer Anthony Sampsonhe attends with friend and Nobellaureate Nadine Gordimer. (See herexclusive tribute to him on Page 5). SIPHIWE SIBEKO/MIKE HUTCHINGS

AND RADU SIGHETI/REUTERS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Third row: In 2010, having turned 90two years earlier, he shrinks hisitinerary, emerging from seclusiononly for special occasions, such asSouth Africa’s global coming-outparty as host to soccer’s World Cup. Left: He and Ms. Machel take in therollicking finale in Johannesburg.Right: Before year’s end, soccerputs him back in the spotlight whenthe U.S. and South African nationalsquads come to call. As camerassnap, he joins home-team captainSteven Pienaar, left, and BradleyGuzan of the visitors, who win theannual Nelson Mandela Challenge.MICHAEL KOOREN/REUTERS

DEBBIE YAZBEK/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

PUBLIC SHAME, PRIVATE PAIN. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Left: Rapped for ignoring AIDSwhile in office, he defies his ownparty and tackles the great scourgeafter retiring, in 2002 joiningcontroversial HIV activist ZackieAchmat, top, to fight for treatment. But the cruellest blow comes threeyears later when, grief-stricken, hecalls reporters to his home, middle,(see Page 9 for Stephanie Nolen’saccount) to reveal that the virus hasclaimed his only surviving son.The following week finds the familyback in the Eastern Cape whenMakgatho is laid to rest in Qunu. ANNA ZIEMINSKI/AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE

ALEXANDER JOE/AFP/GETTY IMAGES

OBED ZILWA/THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

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T H E G LO B E A N D M A I L • W E D N E S DAY , D E C E M B E R 3 1 , 1 9 6 9

AN INDELIBLE IMPRESSION

HEART OF PALM: Africa itself appears to emerge from Nelson Mandela’spalm in this lithograph of his right hand, part of a limited edition depicting

his thoughts and feelings behind bars for nearly 30 years. THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

‘THERE WERE MANY DARK MOMENTSWHEN MY FAITH IN HUMANITY

WAS SORELY TESTED,BUT I WOULD NOT

– AND COULD NOT – GIVE MYSELF UP TO DESPAIR.’

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