Leadership is delighted to publish an excerpt from Zodwa Zwane and Bonga Percy Vilakazi’s book, ‘My Boss, Mrs Mandela: Walking with God, Serving Mam’ Winnie’.
CHAPTER 23
Tata Weakens
It was around June 2013, that I heard about Tata’s declining health.
The news was everywhere.
He had already suffered multiple health scares and now required constant medical attention. On the morning of 22 June, he experienced another serious setback at his Houghton home. An emergency team from 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria dispatched an ambulance to rush him to Mediclinic Heart Hospital, but the ambulance broke down along the way. For 40 minutes, medical staff battled desperately in freezing temperatures to keep Tata alive.
Later, doctors revealed that his kidneys were functioning at around 50% and emphasised how fatal the delay could have been, insisting he should have been stabilised at the nearest hospital first. This shocking event served as a stark reminder of Tata’s mortality. It was a sobering thought that even a figure as extraordinary as Madiba could be let down by something as ordinary as a broken-down vehicle – something many South Africans were familiar with.
Mama, as I heard later, was furious about the incident, but of course I wasn’t around her to learn all the details. I was still dealing with my own unemployment difficulties.
Then one day, while attending a funeral in Atteridgeville, Pretoria, I received a call from Sis’ Zindzi. Stepping outside to answer, I heard her voice clearly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Tata is in hospital. Please come and pray with us,” she asked gently.
As I was already in Pretoria, I agreed without hesitation. After attending the funeral, I arranged to be dropped off close to the hospital as per Sis’ Zindzi’s request, and she picked me up as promised.
When I arrived, Madiba’s family was already there. The room was heavy with tension and quiet reverence. Familiar faces were everywhere. What no one knew was that I had already absconded from Mama’s office in a huff and was no longer working for her. I had intentionally kept it to myself so that we didn’t attract unnecessary attention. Discretion was the name of the game. I always made sure that everything remained confidential.
As I was approaching everyone to greet them, Mama walked in alongside Mam’ Graça, Tata’s wife. They’d just seen Tata in his room.
Mama called Graça “Little Sister”, and she called Mama “Big Sister”.
Before anything could unfold, Mama pulled me aside, grabbing my arm with urgency. The moment reminded me of how Mam’ Gobhozi (played by the late Ruth Cele in Hlala Kwabafileyo, an old SABC drama series) would pull someone close for a gossip session not meant for other ears.
“Zodwa,” she whispered, “don’t let Graça or anyone else know that you’ve left my office. Don’t say anything to anyone. Please, I don’t want people to know my business!”
I nodded in agreement, indulging her pretence of normality. I always played along in an effort for Mama to look good. And lo and behold, as expected, Mam’ Graça walked excitedly towards me and asked where I’d been and why I hadn’t arrived at the hospital earlier.
I lied and told her I’d been so busy at the office that I hadn’t had time to come to the hospital to see Tata. I told her I was here now and that’s all that mattered.
She appeared to believe me, but I could feel Mama’s sharp eyes on me, ensuring that I stuck to the script she had dictated.
I repeated the same story to anyone else who asked, carrying it off with ease. Later, I saw myself on TV, walking alongside Mama and Mam’ Graça as part of the entourage. To the world, it looked like I’d never left Mama’s side, like I was still her trusted assistant.
That same day, I accompanied Mama and the family to a meeting with then-president Jacob Zuma at Mahlamba Ndlopfu, his official residence. It felt strange, as though the last few weeks had never happened, as if I’d never walked out in sorrow, hurt and frustration.
When we returned, I was in the car with Mama, and for the first time the air between us felt calm. Neither of us said much, but there was an unspoken agreement between us that bygones would be bygones–at least for now. Then she turned to me and said, “Come back to the office tomorrow.”
There was no command in her voice this time. Just steadiness, an insistence and a vulnerability.
Zodwa Zwane and Bonga Percy Vilakazi are the authors of ‘My Boss, Mrs Mandela: Walking with God, Serving Mam’ Winnie’.