Invictus - Carlin [72]
“Well, well, but . . .” Mandela said, puzzled, “what are you doing?”
“I am collecting my things and getting ready to go, Mr. President.”
“Oh, I see. And may I ask where you are going?”
“Back to correctional services, Mr. President, where I used to serve.”
“Mmm,” said Mandela, pursing his lips. “I was there twenty-seven years, you know. It was very bad.” He grinned as he repeated, “Very bad!”
Reinders, flummoxed, offered him a half-smile back. “Now,” Mandela continued, “I would like you to consider staying here with us.” Reinders examined Mandela’s eyes with astonishment. “Yes. I am quite serious. You know this job. I don’t. I am from the bush. I am ignorant. Now, if you stay with me, it would be just one term, that is all. Five years. And then, of course, you would be free to leave. Now, please understand me: this is not an order. I would like to have you here only if you wish to stay and share your knowledge and your experience with me.”
Mandela smiled. Reinders smiled, wholeheartedly now. “So,” Mandela continued, “what do you say? Will you stay with me?”
Amazed as he was, Reinders did not hesitate. ‘Yes, Mr. President. I will. Yes. Thank you.”
At which point his new boss gave him his first task: to gather together all the presidential staff, including the cleaners and the gardeners, at the cabinet room for a meeting. The new president walked among them, shaking hands with each one of the hundred or so people assembled, saying a few words to each, in Afrikaans where appropriate. Then he addressed them all. “Hello, I’m Nelson Mandela. If any of you prefer to take the [severance] package, you are free to leave. Go. There is no problem. But I beg you, stay! Five years, that is all. You have the knowledge. We need that knowledge, we need that experience of yours.”
Every single member of the presidential staff stayed.
Two weeks later, on May 24, four hundred newly elected delegates converged on Cape Town for the opening of South Africa’s first democratic parliament, held at the very same National Assembly building where the whites-only parliament used to gather. Until now it had been a dull, heavy, monochrome sort of place. On the May morning when the same chamber opened its doors to Mandela’s non-racial democracy the scene underwent a Technicolor transformation. The sight from high up in the visitors’ gallery suggested a cross between the United Nations General Assembly, a pop concert, and an end-of-term college party. A glance at the roster of new members of parliament told it all. Before they were called Botha or Van der Merwe or Smith. Now they were called those names, but also Bengu and Dlamini and Farisani and Maharaj and Mushwana and Neerahoo and Pahad and Zulu. And a third of the MPs, including the new speaker, Frene Ginwala, were women. More striking was the proportion of MPs who had spent time in prison, or had been on the run from the police. Practically every ANC MP had broken the law; now they would be making it, led by the longest-serving prisoner of them all, the last man in today, Mandela.
As word spread of his arrival, the MPs rose to their feet, the buzz gave way to a roar, to freedom songs and swaying dances from the younger, more exuberant members of the ANC contingent. Amid the Rainbow Nation hurly-burly, General Viljoen cut an anomalous figure. Sober as ever, in a dark suit and tie, he stood in the middle of the oval chamber at ground level, as befitted the leader of the honorable Freedom Front opposition. Mandela emerged, also at ground level, straight-backed and beaming, to a cheer from the assembly.
Viljoen was staring at Mandela with a mixture of awe and affection. On seeing him, Mandela broke parliamentary protocol and, crossing the floor, shook his hand and said with a big smile, “I am very happy to see you here, General.”
Some voices from high up in the gallery shouted, “Give him a hug, General! Go on, hug him!”
In recalling the moment, Viljoen let a small smile pass his lips, nodded, then turned solemn again. “But I did not do that. I am a military man and he was my president.