Ahmed Kathrada – My comrade and brother

When was the last time you saw the former President?
The last time was a few weeks ago when he was already in hospital.

How was the interaction with him?
It was very traumatic. He was conscious but he had pipes so he could only respond with his eyes. That’s how one could tell that he understood. It was a short visit; all the people who went to see him were only given a few minutes and it was by invitation only. I was there for only a few minutes. I touched him and said a few words to which he responded with his eyes. It was traumatic because all my life I’ve known him as a strong, tall, well-built man – a boxer – now to see him in that state, which is a shadow of how I’ve known him all my life, was traumatic.

Can you remember your first interaction with Nelson Mandela?
What I remember is that it was around 1945 or 1946.

How old were you at the time?
I was about 17, at high school and he was at Wits University. I met him through his fellow students, Ismail Meer and JN Singh, who were studying law with him. Ismail had a flat which I inherited after he left. They used to come to the flat after lectures. That was where I first saw Nelson Mandela. At the time non-whites, especially Africans, were very few at university or as professionals so one would be in awe of him and want to be like him. He had this ability to relate to me, a high school kid, almost as an equal, wanting to know what my interests were, what I wanted to do and so on. I could go back and boast to my classmate that I was with this man who was a university student and he treated me like a friend. That was the first impact.

What were your initial impressions of Mandela?
The impression was of this university student who was able to relate to me as a high school student who was 11 years younger than him.

Did your impressions of him change over the years as you interacted with him and got to know him better?
It got stronger as I met him at various types of events and we grew quite close. He had an amazing quality and he could relate to a child, a peasant, an aristocrat, royalty and anyone. He related easily to people and that’s been proven over and over again.

You are one of the few remaining Rivonia Trialists. Do you still see the others? Do you get together?
Not as Rivonia Trialists, but I was in Mandela’s offi ce when he was the President for five years and we also served on the national executive together. We were quite close at that time to the extent that I had open access to him without appointments.

Did you believe at the time of the Rivonia Trial that he would live to see South Africa become a democratic country?
At the time of the trial the predominant thought in our minds was death. This was emphasised to us during the 90-day detention period where our only visitors were police. They would come from time to time to interrogate us and get information about colleagues and activities. They would come with one message only: “If you do not give this information, you are going to die”. When the 90-day period was over and we saw our lawyers for the first time, they told us to prepare for the worst. During the whole trial we expected death.

We had four of the most senior leaders of the ANC among the eight of us: Mandela, [Walter] Sisulu, [Govan] Mbeki and [Raymond] Mhlaba. Collectively they told us how we should be conducting this trial as a political trial not as a criminal trial. Some of us went into the witness box while others didn’t. It was agreed that when we got into the witness box, we would not dispute genuine evidence. But on the other hand we would not volunteer the evidence that they did not have. You go in, proclaim your political beliefs and you admit if there’s evidence you say: “Yes it is true”. You don’t ask for mercy, you don’t apologise. We had taken a collective decision that if we received the death sentence, there would be no appeal. Until the very last day the expectation among the lawyers and us was that we would get the death penalty.

“I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die”.

What are the strongest memories you have of the Island and your interaction with Mandela at the time?
The strongest memory is when we arrived and Madiba, on behalf of the leadership, said: “We are now prisoners not leaders, we don’t make policies, we don’t give instructions. Our leaders are outside”. At the time Chief [Albert] Luthuli was still alive and the late Oliver Tambo led our comrades in exile. Mandela said that that was the national executive, and they were there to make policy and instructions. Our main objective was to concentrate on the work of prisoners and ensure that we continue with political education. There was also a lot of emphasis on academics, but we encountered lots of problems. Instead of encouraging us to study, the authorities discouraged us. They said those who want to study formally with a college or university had to have money and that money had to come from the immediate family and not from lawyers or the church. Th e Red Cross would send money but it was sent back. Even books were sent back. Th at disqualifi ed the vast majority from formally studying so there was an emphasis on informal studies. In our section, Neville Alexander started an organisation called RITA [Robben Island Teachers Association] and their main job was to teach us. I owe whatever I did personally to Neville. He was such a brilliant chap and a natural teacher. I did library science, not because I was interested but we had ulterior motives for everything. Neville took my books and guided me so I could get through my degree. There were illiterate people, mostly in the communal section, but in our section there were three who were completely illiterate. Neville concentrated on them with the help of Govan Mbeki and Fikile Bam as he wasn’t Xhosa speaking. It was the same in the communal cells. We can boast that no prisoner left Robben Island illiterate. I can give you two examples. One was a young chap who came there at the age of 15. He was sentenced to 10 years and in that time he did his matric. His parents had money so he did his BA as well as his BJuris. He completed his law studies outside and today he is the deputy chief justice of the Constitutional Court, Judge Dikgang Moseneke. Another example is a young person who came from a really poor family and he had no money to study formally. He wasn’t illiterate; he didn’t complete primary school but he could at least read and write. He came out of prison after 10 years without a certifi cate but he was an educated man: that’s President [Jacob] Zuma. I am not talking politics now. I am talking about Robben Island. Those are two of many examples one can give of informal education. Nobody left illiterate. President Zuma could stand with anybody in the world. If I may just go back, when Madiba and others said we were no longer leaders they carried that out. He did everything that ordinary prisoners had to do. In 1977, after 13 years in jail, he was offered release provided he went to the Transkei. He refused, saying all of South Africa belonged to both blacks and whites. I followed his example when I was offered release in 1982 and I refused.

What were the conditions they gave for your release?
The conditions were that I won’t take part in politics. I didn’t even bother about it but he got the message. I didn’t want to give an immediate reply and I told them it was a very weighty issue and I had to consult my lawyer. Dullah Omar and I wanted to see each other so this gave us an opportunity and I told him to please write a letter saying I’m not interested. More than that when it came to hard work, people like Madiba could have easily asked for exemption but he refused and he was with us. When it came to hunger strikes again some of us who were younger agreed that our elders who may not be too well should be exempted but they refused and they went through all hunger strikes, except those who had medical reasons. The whole approach of the leadership was no preferential treatment except those with doctor’s orders. Madiba had high blood pressure and cholesterol so medically he had to have some things which were different. That’s how they conducted themselves. You would see Madiba polishing the floor. Everything that we did they did. I discovered something recently which I knew but it hit me hard. During the day when we were working we were together but at night there was no communication because we were in single cells. Madiba, Sisulu and their families had a lot of trouble outside, such as detention, exile and punishment which they never showed to us. Their first duty was to the fellow prisoners. When I read Winnie’s [Mandela] book, I read there what he managed to hide from us. He hid the inner feelings which he would not show during the day when he wrote [letters]. I saw that letter for the first time in Winnie’s book. Before, during and after prison Sisulu was like a father to me. I had lost my father in 1944 when I came to Johannesburg and he was like my father. At Pollsmoor the last seven years we were together. Th e two of us were in one cell and the other two, Mlangeni and Mhlaba, were in a different cell. Madiba was of course not with us. There I saw that while during the day they didn’t make us feel how much anxiety they had about their families, it was when the two of us were alone that I experienced it. Th ere was one very cold night that I’ll never forget. His eyes were weak. I was fast asleep but I woke up for some reason. By that time, after 15 years, we had beds and I saw Walter with a photo album of his family. His eyesight was bad so he was going through the photos page by page. I noticed that it was a regular thing on a Saturday night to connect with his family. During the day they may have talked about it but they never showed the measure of their concern for their family. Their concern was always for fellow prisoners.

You are one of the few people who can call Nelson Mandela a friend?
I think it is a bit arrogant to be described as a friend. According to custom he is my elder brother, and Walter Sisulu was my father. I would not be presumptuous to call him my friend as he has always been my elder brother, and comrade of course.

I’ve had conflicting reports about the decision to focus the campaign for the release of political prisoners on Mandela. Was this discussed on Robben Island at all?
If I remember correctly, and I may be mistaken, the call was made by the World newspaper editor Percy Qoboza. The decision that it must be called the “Release Nelson Mandela” campaign was taken outside and we had nothing to do with it. I also understand that there was some debate outside the country where some people said that it should be “Release all political prisoners”, but there was a need to focus on one individual and that’s how I believe it became the “Release Mandela” campaign.

How did other prisoners feel about this notion of the campaign focusing on Nelson Mandela?
There was no debate about it. You must also realise that about 25 of us were completely isolated from the hundreds of other political prisoners so I can’t say what happened there. But we never heard of any disputes and we were not there to address them if there was any at all.

How was the consultation on Robben Island, did you get to interact with the other hundreds of prisoners at all?
Yes, I had the public knowledge. He also acknowledges in his book that I was head of the committee that was in charge, firstly, of getting news. For 15 years we didn’t have newspapers. Secondly, we had to establish and maintain contact with our comrades in the other section. We had to devise all sorts of means to keep in contact. We got into all sorts of troubles on two or three occasions. I lost my study privileges as punishment and on one occasion I was sentenced to solitary confinement for six months, all because of the attempt to keep contact with other comrades.

You were released in 1989?
I was released on 15 October 1989. Govan Mbeki was released in 1987, and Denis Goldberg was released in 1985. When PW Botha offered to release all political prisoners he was one of those who accepted the offer. In 1989 the rest of us were released. Just to give you background; when Madiba started talking to the other side he was in isolation. After 18 years on Robben Island, five of us were transferred to Pollsmoor and after three years at Pollsmoor he was further isolated from us. He was alone and that’s when he started talking to the other side.

We won’t go into all the details but his attempts, which were consistent with ANC policy, was to use a combination of pressure. We had the mass struggle by Cosatu and the United Democratic Front, combined with the armed struggle by the underground ANC and international solidarity. A combination of those forces was used to force the enemy to the negotiation table, which was ANC policy. In his isolation, when I think back, when he came back from hospital and was told he was no longer going to be with us, he was going to be on his own, instinctively we wanted to protest but he said: “Cool it, something good might come out of this”. In retrospect, already in his mind there was a necessity to talk to the other side, and that is what he did. He made one thing clear that he was not negotiating, because prisoners cannot negotiate. He was trying to persuade the other side to talk to the ANC through Oliver Tambo but in order to facilitate the talks they had to meet certain conditions: release all political prisoners, unban all political organisations, allow the exiles to come back. When that happens, we can start talking. That’s how we got released. We were the first to be released as a group in 1989. Of course, Govan Mbeki and Denis were already released. They had demanded that all the elderly should be released but Mandela refused. They allowed Govan Mbeki, then Mandela asked about Walter Sisulu. I was told that the response from [former President FW] De Klerk was: “If we release Walter Sisulu, we’ll lose the elections”. It was about to be elections at the time. They had already made up their minds to release him but they kept him away from us until we were all released on 15 October 1989.

What portfolio?
The Minister of Correctional services, to service prisons at that time. I was quite amazed that this was announced already but by that time they came to know that I was not interested. Fortunately, the Inkatha Freedom Party agreed to join the government and wanted one of the four security positions: either intelligence, defence, police or correctional services. Correctional Services was the least difficult so it was easy for Madiba to take my position and give it to them. It made me very happy but I was never interested in the Cabinet. He then made me his counsellor.

What is it about Nelson Mandela that has made him so special in the eyes of the world?
It’s a matter of personality and style. That is the difference because otherwise all our leaders were carrying out the policy. I think what differed is his ability. Walter [Sisulu] had that ability as a father figure but, like me, he was not interested in government. It was really a question of style that made Madiba different throughout his life. He was born and brought up as a leader, a chief. Then he rose in the ANC Youth League to become president. Then he joined the ANC in the [then] Transvaal and became president. What makes him different is his style to relate and what could be seen as an obsession with children. When he became President he donated a third of his salary towards children. Then of course he was carrying out the policy of non-racialism and forgiveness. He invited the widows and wives of former Presidents and Prime Ministers of the apartheid government to tea. When Mrs [Betsy] Verwoerd could not come, he flew down for tea with her. He carried out the same policy with a different style. You know about the rugby match and so forth, one can go on and on. What sets him apart from the rest is interacting the same way as with the peasant and the queen.

Do you think there is a difference between the leaders in South Africa today and those of your generation?
Basically, they are all carrying out the same policy. I have the attitude that if I start concentrating on an individual I can go wrong. Individuals come and go but I would be very worried if there’s a change in policy. If there would be any danger, it would be changing the basic policy which is reaffirmed at every conference. I’m not particularly concerned about leaders; they come and go.

What kind of a role can elders like yourself play to make sure we remain on the right track in South Africa?
I retired from the national executive in 1997 and I retired from Parliament in 1999 voluntarily, but my colleagues said I must do something. They started the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation and its basic aim is to deepen non-racialism. Although that is policy, but it is on the back burner and we are concentrating on reaching particularly our young people to get them to know about where they came from, their responsibilities, education, etc.

‘What makes him different is his style to relate and what could be seen as an obsession with children. When he became President he donated a third of his salary towards children’

We are making steady progress and that has kept me very busy because it is not a big organisation, nor is it a political organisation. Cyril [Ramaphosa] is our chairperson and we have two other Cabinet Ministers on the board but it is not political. We just concentrate on reaching out to young people with this policy of non-racialism.

Talking about retirement, behind you there’s a photo with you and Madiba and it says: “To Madala, You must now retire”, signed by Nelson Mandela. It was taken in 2001. Can you tell us about it?
That was the type of relationship we enjoyed, teasing each other. He started calling me “Madala” and I reciprocated and we’ve been calling each other “Madala” since then. The other day when I went to see him, sick as he is, I said “Madala”. This is how we address each other informally. At meetings we addressed each other as comrade or Mr President, but that’s how close our relationship was.

How do we in still the values that Madiba had in young people, how do we keep his legacy alive?
That’s a major thing, if one considers his main contribution was reconciliation and everything else flows from that; his policy of forgiveness, his policy of looking into the future – non-racialism, promotion on merit and so on. Those are not as one would wish but they are part of his main legacy. The other, as I said, is the matter of style once the policy is implemented. I’d be happy if the policy would be implemented much stronger than it is being done. Every now and then of course there are criticisms which we hope they will overcome and stick to the basic policy of a non-racial, non-sexist, democratic South Africa. That is his main legacy, one can go into detail and talk about his ability to relate to people and all that but those we’ve already talked about, they are all part of his legacy.