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A broken typewriter Winnie Madikizela-Mandela once used, a collection of vinyl records she listened to and a wooden bookshelf continue to gather dust in her friend’s house in Brandfort, Free State.
If the house to which she was banished in 1977 had not been allowed to fall into dereliction, these items would be part of an exhibition of her life there.
About 10 years after government announced plans to turn the house into a museum, it remains in ruins, despite millions of rands having been set aside for the project.
Norah Nomafa Moahloli saved all these items from her friend’s house after apartheid police petrol-bombed an outbuilding Madikizela-Mandela used as a community centre and a clinic 32 years ago.
Madikizela-Mandela fled Brandfort in fear of her life after the bombing, leaving many of her belongings behind.
“People started helping themselves to her stuff including building material that was meant to build a soup kitchen. I went to the house and the only valuables I could find there were these items,” Moahloli said.
“Nomzamo collected lots of books for the youth in Brandfort, and because they were scattered all over the three-roomed house, during one of his visits Hugh Masekela’s father [sculptor Selema Masekela] decided to build her a book rack. He got the records from artists who supported the struggle and would often send her their music as gifts.”
Moahloli has kept these items safe all these years, waiting for the house to be turned into a museum.
“It was in this house where people like struggle activist Sophie de Bruyn, Hugh Masekela’s father and many other anti-apartheid activists came to see her. Most of them slept on the concrete floor in my house and would only walk to Nomzamo’s house after 3am,” she recalls.
“I immediately thought these are definitely curatorial items. I am still holding on to them with the hope that one day they will, together with letters between myself and Nomzamo and pictures of her with the local community, be exhibited at the museum.”
Last year, City Press visited house number 802 in Majwemasweu township, Brandfort, where Madikizela-Mandela was banished. She had no electricity or running water and a bucket toilet. Her many community projects, including a soup kitchen, earned her the title of mamane (aunt) from the people of Brandfort.
Broken alcohol bottles, used condoms and wrappers, matchboxes, marijuana joints and old clothing lay strewn across the floor. Residents told of how the house was used as a drug and sex den, a place where women were raped and stolen sheep slaughtered.
By this week, a fence had been erected around the house and the office of the Public Protector had asked Parliament to investigate possible corruption regarding the money that was meant to have been used to convert the house into a museum.
Brandfort residents have spent the entire week cleaning the yard and the grimy floors.
Moahloli had hoped to discuss the house and the items she collected with Madikizela-Mandela, during her visit to Soweto, a day before she died.
“After spending the weekend attending an Easter church service in Soweto, I could not have left without seeing Nomzamo. So I went to her house with my children, but the look on the face of the security official at the gate said it all. He told us she was not well after complaining about flu and we could not see her,” she said.
“I asked for a pen and paper and left her a note, wishing her well and left my number before we drove to Brandfort. Instead of the call I expected from Nomzamo, I got a call which almost paralysed me the following day.”
Apartheid police issued Moahloli a permit, allowing her to care for Madikizela-Mandela when she was ill.
“She had an abscess on the leg and needed someone there before she could get papers sorted for her to go to Bloemfontein for medical attention, and she asked for me. Soon she was well and on her feet and continued with her community work,” she said.
Moahloli remembers how apartheid police monitored Madikizela-Mandela’s movements from Bassonkop Hill, which overlooks the township. Residents were not allowed to talk to or visit her.
“But we shared a communal tap and that’s where we met. No one cared about the police anymore and I think that’s when they bombed her clinic, in a bid to scare people. She was one woman who loved gardening and even in the morning you’d find her watering her plants.
“We are really making a humble appeal to our government to make the idea of this museum a reality. Nomzamo is worth all of it and even more.”
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