Opinionated Old Cow: Mandela, South Africa, and Canada

As Nelson Mandela’s long and noble life ebbs inexorably to a close, everyone that ever spied him from a distance or watched him on TV — or, in solidarity with him, gave up Paarl wines, Granny Smith apples, Outspan oranges, Marlboro cigarettes — feels a special relationship with this iconic South African. His effect on people the world over has been unusually personal, intimate even.

Predictably these days, it’s hard to find any white South Africans that were in favour of apartheid — the iniquitous codified system based on race that predetermined the future of every child born there.

Indeed, many now imply they were “in the struggle”, “banned”, “nearly banned” or “restricted”, while others insist they emigrated, not for economic reasons, but because they were involved in anti-apartheid activities, and threatened with reprisals by the fearsome South African security services.

If you believe that, you probably also believe there were never any Communists in the Soviet Union or Nazis in Hitler’s Germany.

Those of us in Pretoria in the late 1980s, posted to the Canadian Embassy — as it then was — knew well the shamefully small band of white saints and heroes that, with no guarantee of an equitable resolution to the intractable problems facing that nation, and at great danger to themselves, stood up to the authorities and did what was right, alongside their black compatriots.

Successful professionals all, they had nothing to gain from their moral and vocal engagement, and everything to lose.

Some, like young Keith Coleman, were sent to prison — into solitary confinement — as punishment for their activism.

Well-known jurist Albie Sachs, working against the apartheid regime from nearby Mozambique, had his arm blown off by a parcel bomb.

However, many more benefitted happily from a system where the odds were stacked in their favour from birth.

It wasn’t that they were particularly in favour of apartheid, but their silent compliance helped to maintain it.

They weren’t especially racist either; they simply edited blacks from sight.

An elegant, educated industrialist, seated beside me at an all-white luncheon in Johannesburg the year before Mandela’s release, boasted of the efficiency of his large production company.

“And it’s all run by just seven people,” he announced proudly.

“Seven!?” I asked, amazed.

“Oh, and 300 blacks,” he added, absent-mindedly.

What most Canadians are unaware of is the pivotal role that Canada — along with Sweden, Australia, and The Netherlands — played in the battle to dismantle South Africa’s system of legalized racism.

Our embassy in Pretoria took a lead in the South African struggle for a just, multi-racial society — the ‘rainbow nation’ that Mandela envisaged throughout his 27 years on Robben Island.

And our efforts were unstintingly supported by ordinary Canadians who understood the issue and the righteousness of the stand we were taking together.

In those dark days before Mandela’s release, Canadian diplomats joined black and white South Africans at blacks-only bus stops and outside black hospital wards, to press for their desegregation.

Some officers, while observing protests, were tear-gassed, while others — or their spouses — were water cannoned, rounded up, and thrown into police vehicles.

Meanwhile, the embassy’s $1.2 million Dialogue Fund, established by Brian Mulroney’s government, supported human rights groups and anti-apartheid initiatives.

Our brief: to represent the voiceless; to be a persistent, unrelenting presence, watching, listening, bearing witness.

And to press for change.

In 1990, soon after he emerged from prison, Nelson Mandela publicly credited Canadians for the critical part they played in that change. But as everyone knows, it was the towering Mandela himself, whose leadership made the seemingly impossible, possible. Who inspired South Africans to make this modern-day miracle work.

His death is sure to unleash a flood of first-person stories: What Madiba Confided In Me; How I Advised Mandela on South Africa; My Moment with Nelson.

But his eloquent handwritten letter to my husband John and me, as we prepared to leave South Africa, was in fact a first-person story about all Canadians that shared his vision:

“Dear John and Alena, During your stay in South Africa, we have come to know and respect you as people who care about South Africa, about our trials and tribulations, our setbacks and victories. Through your warmth and understanding and positive contributions you have won many friends not only for yourself, but also for Canada.

You have touched our hearts and will be sorely missed.”

Mandela’s legacy will, in some measure, be Canada’s. We have every right to be proud.

Alena Schram and her husband John served in the Canadian Embassy, Pretoria from 1988 to 1992. John was Minister-Counsellor and Alena administered the Dialogue Fund.

AN EPHRONESQUE OBSERVATION OF LIFE: FROM THE PERILS OF FACEBOOK, THE ANNOYING TENDENCIES OF HUSBANDS WHO CO-SHOP, AND THE DEFECTIVE REARING OF GRANDCHILDREN, TO SPORTS CARS FOR THE MENOPAUSAL, BRAS THAT WINCH, AND CHIN HAIRS WITH MINDS OF THEIR OWN.