THIS AND THAT michelle cahill A force to be reckoned with

SO ANOTHER great passed away this week. Affectionately known as Mother of the Nation, Ma Winnie was loved by many and despised by others, but nobody can deny she was a force to be reckoned with.

Tributes have been pouring in from far and wide, but everybody remembers her differently. Some see her as a heroine while others see her as a villain.

Growing up in the ’80s everybody knew who she and Nelson were.

One minute I was hating them, well not exactly hating, but not quite understanding their actions and what the Struggle was all about.

And the next minute my hatred was turned on its head.

Just thinking how many people gave their lives so that we could all have economic freedom and a better life, I’m hating my thoughts of hatred.

Then there were times I would have killed for Winnie’s afro. Man, she rocked that ’fro! Boy did I want one. I can’t remember when, but at one stage in my life I managed to get my hands on an afro pick. Did I not think I was the bomb. It was one of my prized possessions. Sadly though, I don’t quite know when it disappeared or why.

I also remember just before Nelson was released from jail; I was living in Johannesburg. One Sunday I visited a flea market in Rosebank and bought myself two Nelson and Winnie T-shirts. I remember wearing them day in and day out. I just constantly kept washing them so that I would have one to wear every day. There wasn’t a day I didn’t have one on.

My favourite was a white one with a black and white photo of the two of them.

Then I had to return to Kimberley for the holidays and remember thinking that I don’t really have to pack anything, just my two T-shirts and maybe a change of underwear.

I was actually dreading coming home, because I knew a lot of people would not be impressed with me, so I went through the motions and packed properly.

When I got home, I had to force myself not to wear them and decided for the sake of peace, I would just keep them hidden.

But, as luck would have it, my favourite one ended up in the washing. Boy, did I not hear the end of it.

I was forced to “donate” it. My heart was broken.

When revolutionary Winnie burst onto the scene attending political rallies in her camo gear, I wanted to be her. She was a real firebrand and when many thought she was just being a loose cannon, Ma Winnie was laying the groundwork for our political landscape today.

I was also finally beginning to understand what the Struggle was all about. Although I would have loved to follow in her footsteps, life took its turns and I ended up where I am today.

The only time she really came down off the pedestal for me was during the whole Stompie Seipei debacle.

There she lost a lot of props for me.

She was implicated in the death of the 14-year-old child activist who was a member of the Mandela United Football Club, which she had established to disguise her political mobilisation of young people in the township.

Jerry Richardson, the coach of the club who was later exposed as having spied for the apartheid government, apportioned some blame on her. Richardson was sentenced to life imprisonment for the abduction and murder of Seipei. He died in prison.

Although she appeared in front of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, she never admitted to playing any part in Seipei’s death, even though she did apologise to the family.

One thing that really struck me about Winnie was that she didn’t come across as a typical mother, although she would more than likely have laid down her life for any of her “children”.

Love her or hate her, villain or heroine, Winnie definitely made her mark and definitely left a legacy that all of us would dearly love to live up to.

Hamba kahle, Ma Winnie.