Remembering my brother in the struggle
He has known Nelson Mandela as a youth league hothead, a heartbroken father and an inspiring comrade, Ahmed Kathrada tells Carlos Amato
‘IT would be a bit arrogant for me to call Madiba my close friend — he’s 11 years my senior,” said Ahmed Kathrada this week. “So I’ve always regarded him as my elder brother and Walter Sisulu as my father.”
The two survivors of that “family” have travelled seven decades together. Their epic biopic is shown daily on the clear screen of Kathrada’s formidable memory — and the opening scene is a flaming row between Kathrada and Mandela on a Commissioner Street pavement in Johannesburg.
The year was 1950, Kathrada was 21 and both young activists were bolshy blowhards.
“It was our first and only major clash,” Kathrada recalled this week in Killarney, Johannesburg, where he lives with his partner, former health minister Barbara Hogan.
“There was a strike called by the ANC, the Indian Congress and the Communist Party. But at that time, the ANC Youth League opposed cooperation with other liberation organisations.
“They were not racist, but they were sort of exclusivist,” said Kathrada. “They felt the freedom fight must be conducted by the ANC alone. So they opposed the strike — sometimes physically, to the extent that Madiba himself tried to break up a meeting and pulled one of the speakers off the platform. I think it was Yusuf Cachalia.
“I was deeply involved in the strike planning. And we saw each other on the street . . . and exchanged pleasantries. It became quite heated and I challenged him. I said: ‘You are an African leader and I’m just a youth congress chap. But I challenge you to a debate on any platform of your choice and I’ll beat you.’
“The strike was a success and
Suddenly I noticed Madiba getting up and complaining about me, about how disrespectful I had been to him
later a joint meeting of all the organisations was called. I was there as a driver and to man the door. Suddenly I noticed Madiba getting up and complaining about me — about how disrespectful I had been to him. I was hoping my mentor, Ismail Meer, would come to my defence, but he just said to Madiba: ‘ Look, just forget about this hot-headed chap.’ It ended there. I always used to tease him in prison, saying: ‘That argument I won.’ ”
Kathrada is bracing himself for the day when his big brother leaves their movie at last. He last saw Madiba last year in Qunu and gave him an album of drawings about the old man’s life made by orphans in Kazakhstan. “I knew he would love it. He didn’t even come to lunch. Afterwards, we found him still busy paging through it.”
Having observed at close hand the full span of Mandela’s philosophical voyage, from youthful rage and stoic defiance to visionary reconciliation, Kathrada implores South Africans to revisit its end point and embrace the inclusive spirit that Madiba crystallised: “The policy of nonracialism is entrenched in the constitution of the ANC and the national constitution — but it’s on the back burner. Nonracialism should be absolutely fundamental.”
In an effort to deepen that vulnerable legacy, he has established the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation, whose aim is to promote the values and principles of the constitution and the Freedom Charter.
Kathrada is highly unimpressed by the rude and puerile tenor of the debate between the ANC and opposition parties.
“On the island, we were members of a number of different parties and we kept our policies, but we were united against our common enemy, which was apartheid. Now our common enemy is not apartheid — it’s poverty, hunger, poor sanitation. So why can’t the parties cooperate? You’ve got such problems in the townships and if you cooperate you can ameliorate those. It’s not happening, unfortunately.”
He cherishes Madiba’s charm in the heat of political combat, especially during the early years of democracy. “His style is so important,” he said. “At one point, either he or another ANC leader referred to Tony Leon’s party as a ‘Mickey Mouse’ party. And Leon said: ‘If we are Mickey Mouse then you are Goofy!’ Then Leon took ill and was in hospital. So Madiba goes and knocks on his door and says: ‘Mickey Mouse, this is Goofy. I’ve come to visit.’ Again, that shows his attitude towards opposition parties: they are not enemies, they are rivals who must prove themselves in an election.”
Kathrada loves to tease Madiba for his attacks of vanity.
“When he went underground, I was on a committee helping organise safe houses, and we said to him: ‘Look, your photograph has been all over the show with your beard. You have to shave it off.’
“Nothing doing. The beard remained — right up to the time of his first arrest.
“Which reminds me of the Pantene Revolution. After 18 years on the island, five of us were transferred to Pollsmoor, and Madiba was used to this hair oil called Pantene. When the authorities said it was no longer available, he said: ‘You are lying. It is available.’ So he complained to Helen Suzman — he complained to everybody until they sent a warder to go to every pharmacy in town. And he managed to get four or five bottles for him.”
Years later, Kathrada arranged for the warder, Christo Brand, to attend Madiba’s 80th birthday party as a surprise guest, bearing two bottles of Pantene. “He laughed like anything.”
There were times when the mighty flame guttered. He recalls the day in 1969 when Madiba received the news that his eldest son, Madiba Thembekile Mandela, had died.
“He was called to the office. We were all in the courtyard, but instead of coming back to us he went straight to his cell and got on his mattress. It was similar when his mother died. He just kept very quiet and mourned alone.”
Kathrada’s 26 years on the island deprived him of fatherhood. “That was one of the worst deprivations. I didn’t see a child for 20 years.” But for 63 years, he saw a brother.