it was too big to fit in the boot of the car, we left with the bust sitting between me and my ANC colleague on the back seat. There was a tense silence in the car, and I saw my colleague repeatedly glancing over at the bust. Eventually, he could not take it any more.
‘I’m sorry, comrade,’ he said, ‘but this is freaking me out. I don’t want to be disrespectful, but I can’t relax with Oupa Hendrik sitting here!’
I had a thin scarf with me to protect me from the sun. ‘Will it help if I cover him up?’ I asked.
Everyone in the car agreed that this would help, and there was a sigh of relief. Then someone said: ‘F**k! This would only happen in the ANC!’ and everyone burst out laughing.
Wilhelm was also canvassing, which meant that we rarely saw one another, and when we did we were exhausted. One night we stumbled into each other when we both got up to attend to the children, who had woken up. Wilhelm sleepily stretched out his hand and introduced himself . . .
To spend some time with the children, we often took them with us, when we knew the meetings would not be dangerous.
As well as these smaller community meetings, there were many huge rallies. My initial shock at the crowd of 4000 at the Cape Town Civic quickly passed as I spoke at rallies in stadiums filled with thousands more. On the last MK Day (the day celebrating the ANC military wing) before the election, we organised a rally in Stellenbosch. It was to be held on the sports ground in Cloetesville, in the coloured area across the road from Kayamandi. We built a podium for the speakers, installed a powerful sound system, organised refreshment tents and laid on transport. To our annoyance, from early morning, the police were monitoring our movements with a helicopter flying low over the venue, kicking up dust.
An hour before people were due to arrive, there was a sudden panic. We had forgotten to organise a flagpole and the raising of the ANC flag was a vital part of the day. What to do? ‘Leave it to me,’ Franklin Adams said, waving over a few of the ANC marshals in full uniform. They drove off in Franklin’s old bakkie. About 30 minutes later, we saw the marshals marching over towards us in military style, with the flagpole above their heads.
‘Where . . .?’ I started to ask.
‘Better if you don’t know,’ Franklin said with a smile.
I learned later that they had ‘borrowed’ the flagpole from the much-hated municipality in Kayamandi. (The flagpole was later returned.) The pole was mounted on the wall, so the marshals had climbed onto the roof and then lowered one of their number down by the legs. The flagpole was unscrewed and then proudly marched over to the field. The municipal building was right next to the police station in Kayamandi, but all the police stationed there were ANC members, so they were at the rally.
The rally was a great success. Among others, Winnie Mandela attended, in full camouflage. She spoke charismatically, as only she could. She was and remains enormously popular – beyond being the wife, or former wife, of Nelson Mandela. Ordinary people around South Africa have endless stories of acts of kindness done by her, and how brave she was. She endured enormous suffering while Mandela was in jail. She and her children were constantly harassed and then put under house arrest in the tiny town of Brandfort in the Free State. Clearly, she was deeply damaged by all of this, and increasingly things went wrong. The well-documented death of Stompie Moeketsi and the corruption convictions, as well as her appearance at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, were shocking. I had met Winnie Mandela before and later when we were in parliament. Her seat was close to mine, so we spoke often. She is one of the most charismatic people I have ever met. Even at an advanced age, she is stunningly beautiful, and she listens intently to everything you say, with a piercing look. Of course, much of her life remains hugely controversial, but I believe it is too easy to demonise her, as often happens.
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