Read Online Conversations with Myself by Nelson Mandela - Free Book Online

felt…like the Returned Wanderer of Biblical fame and looked forward to seeing my mother and humble home, the numerous friends with whom I grew up, that enchanting veld and all the paraphernalia that make up unforgettable days of childhood…I thought I had left the Security Police behind on the Rand and had not suspected that they had spread their tentacles as far afield as my home town. I was still drinking coffee with two chiefs in my room when early next morning my hostess brought in a white gentleman. Without any courtesies he arrogantly asked, ‘Are you Nelson Mandela?’ ‘And who are you?’ I countered. He gave his rank as a detective sergeant and his name. I then asked, ‘May I see your warrant, please?’ He resented my impertinence much more than I detested his own arrogance but after some hesitation he produced his authority. I then told him that I was Nelson Mandela. He requested me to accompany him to the police station and I asked whether I was under arrest to which he replied that I was not. I refused to go. Whereupon he fired a succession of questions while at the same time noting my remarks in his notebook: when did I leave Johannesburg, what places had I visited, how long did I intend remaining in the Transkei, exactly where would I go on leaving the area, did I have a permit to enter the Transkei? I told him where I would stay, that the Transkei was my home and that I did not need a permit to enter it, but refused to answer the other questions. When he left the chiefs criticized me for my abruptness, stressing that I could have answered some of the questions without any risk to myself. I explained that I had done so because of the man’s discourtesy and haughtiness and that I had justly rewarded him for his arrogance. I don’t think I convinced them…Being together with my mother in her home filled me with boyish excitement. At the same time I could not avoid a sense of guilt as my mother was living all alone and 22 miles from the nearest doctor. My sisters and I were each living on their own. Despite the fact that her children tried in their own way to render her financially comfortable, she chose to live an austere life and saving what one child gave her to distribute to any of her other children who happened to be in need. On previous occasions I endeavoured to persuade her to come and live with me in Johannesburg, but she could never face the wrench of leaving the countryside where she had lived all her life…I have often wondered whether a person is justified in neglecting his own family to fight for opportunities for others. Can there be anything more important than looking after your mother approaching the age of 60, building her a dream house, giving her good food, nice clothing and all one’s love? Is politics in such cases not a mere excuse to shirk one’s responsibilities? It is not easy to live with a conscience that raises such questions from time to time. Often I am able to persuade myself that I have done my best at all times to bring a measure of ease and comfort into my mother’s life. Even when at times I am plagued with an uneasy conscience I have to acknowledge that my whole-hearted commitment to the liberation of our people gives meaning to life and yields for me a sense of national pride and real joy. This feeling has been multiplied a hundred times by the knowledge that right up to her last letter she wrote me shortly before her death, my mother encouraged me in my beliefs and in fighting for them.
    2. CONVERSATION WITH RICHARD STENGEL
    MANDELA: By the way, when I was driving…driving out from Port Elizabeth, it was early in the morning, about ten. It was a hot day and as I was driving – it was quite a bushy area, a little wild area soon after leaving Port Elizabeth – I suddenly come across a snake crossing the road…It was already twisting, you see, because of the heat underneath – he couldn’t bear the heat. And it was twisting but it was too close for me to do