Awestruck over lunch with a legend: a personal memory of Nelson Mandela
Bonny Schoonakker, now a South China Morning Post night editor, reveals how he found himself on the wrong side of Mandela
Despite his friendly welcome when I arrived for lunch, no sooner had I sat down at the table than he unleashed a tirade.
Ever since his release from jail, he said, he had met many, many journalists. On the whole, we were a decent bunch. However, there were some bad ones among us – “and you”, he said, raising both voice and index finger, “are the worst.” Scolded by the world’s most beloved man, I panicked. For decades, millions – no, billions – of people held him in reverence and awe. So did I. Unanimously, the world’s media had been telling us that he was a saint who had saved his people and redeemed his nation, if not mankind itself.
Would you like to come and see me next week? We’d like to cook you a big lunch
Now, more 12 years after he had walked out of jail in February 1990, here he was with some cheeky white man who had dared to write a story in the newspapers that had raised questions about his integrity. I had reported on a scam in which donations meant for Mandela’s charities were ending up in his lawyer’s private bank account and on the day the report appeared, Mr Mandela phoned me at home.
“Hello,” he said. “Would you like to come and see me next week? We would like to cook you a big lunch.”
Everything would be explained, he said. He sounded jovial, belying his anger.
Less than a week later we were seated in the dining room of Shambala, a game lodge in north-western South Africa owned by Douw Steyn, one of the country’s richest businessmen. Steyn had been assiduously courting the African National Congress and had made his mansion north of Johannesburg available to the ANC’s Youth League as some kind of pleasure dome. Mr Mandela had been given the use of Shambala, to serve as a retreat where he could work in peace and quiet on the sequel to Long Walk to Freedom, his autobiography.
Quiet it certainly was. Too quiet. From what I could see when I arrived, there was only one policeman at the entrance gate. Indoors, the only person keeping Mr Mandela company was Zelda la Grange, the woman whom he had retained as his personal assistant after stepping down as president three years previously. Zelda had asked me to bring up the day’s newspapers, as these were difficult to buy in Vaalwater, the closest town.