“I was 19 years old when I came face-to-face with Nelson Mandela,” writes Christo Brand, in his memoir Doing Life with Mandela: My Prisoner, My Friend. “He was 60. Until that day I’d never heard of him or his African National Congress. I was his prison warder on Robben Island and he changed my life forever.”
The two men — one a young, white Afrikaner prison guard, the other a charismatic African freedom fighter imprisoned for life — should have been bitter enemies. Instead, over the course of three decades, they formed a powerful bond that transcends age, race, politics, and even death.
It’s not often you have the opportunity to hear about the life of Nelson Mandela directly from the lips of one of his Robben Island prison warders. However, since the summer of 2018, when he retired as manager of the Robben Island gift shop, Christo Brand has been offering private tours of the island prison off Cape Town. As a decades-long admirer of Mandela, I knew I had to join his tour when I met Christo Brand quite by chance.
Robben Island: A Wintry, Inhospitable Place
My private group tour began at Cape Town’s Nelson Mandela Gateway, from where we boarded the ferry to Robben Island. Upon first meeting Brand, I was immediately taken by his ready smile and the kindness in his eyes. A gentle and compassionate soul who has faced his own personal tragedies, Brand defies the stereotype of a typical prison guard.
Robben Island is a windswept and mostly barren place where, in winter, the waves crash relentlessly against the forbidding shore. Even in late summer, when I visited, the surf pounded against the rocks. It was cool and blustery despite the bright sun, so I was grateful for my thin linen sweater.
Lying tantalisingly close (only 7km) to Cape Town, the former leper colony and prison offers stunning views of Table Mountain. However, the turbulent waters separating it from the mainland make escape virtually impossible. Brand expressed his feelings, saying, “I wanted to leave from the moment I got here, but I had to commit to at least two years.” Standing with Brand and the others in my group on the rocky north shore gazing out toward Table Mountain, I understood the desolation he described.
Hard Labour Takes Its Toll on Mandela and Others
After stopping at the leper cemetery, one of the most poignant points on our tour was the old limestone quarry. Here, Mandela toiled for 13 backbreaking years, digging and breaking rock. Forbidden from wearing sunglasses, even in the relentless sun, the prisoners had to endure the blinding light reflected off the white limestone. Consequently, not only were their eyes infected by the intense sunlight, but the dust clouds also caused respiratory issues. “Mandela’s eyesight suffered for the rest of his life, and eye drops didn’t have much effect,” Brand recounted.
While it is now impossible to walk into the quarry since it is a Unesco World Heritage Site and has been cordoned off, I felt an overwhelming sense of emotion as we stood facing the quarry, listening to Brand. I could almost imagine the prisoners, akin to an old black and white film, grunting as they smashed rocks, sweat pouring down their faces and backs while clouds of dust engulfed them.
Mandela Leads Introduction of Prison Education
Despite the hardships endured in the rock quarry, Mandela managed to transform the quarry, and eventually their section (B Section), into a classroom. The Red Cross provided them with literature, history, philosophy, and political theory. Prisoners were assigned various texts to read and subsequently lead seminars on. Initially, the seminars were held secretly in one of the quarry’s caves because getting caught with the texts presented a major risk. However, over time, the Afrikaner guards permitted the seminars on the condition that they could listen in on the discussions.
As time passed, the prisoners won the right to undertake university correspondence courses and no longer needed to hide their academic pursuits. A library was established – essentially bookcases in an empty double cell. “The inmates appointed a librarian, and a warder would allow them in two at a time. They each had a card to track the books they borrowed,” Brand explained.
Mandela dedicated much of his time in prison to studying, completing at least fifty correspondence courses. Brand recalled, “I used to tell him, why don’t you relax and take it easy? Why not borrow books from the library to enjoy, instead of pushing yourself with all these exams? And he would say, ‘If you have degrees, if you have knowledge – even if it’s about motor mechanics – for as long as you’re alive they can’t take that away from you.’” Mandela encouraged his fellow prisoners, mentioning that even we guards should study, enabling us to think critically and elevate our lives. Gradually, warders began taking courses, and Brand recalls, “I even saw prisoners helping warders with their assignments.”
Inhumane Conditions and Discriminatory Treatment
Brand led our group into an erstwhile dormitory, a long, narrow room with a polished concrete floor and barred windows letting in little light. There were rolled-up sisal mats and rough, matted blankets on display. We immediately remarked on how cold it was in the room.
“It’s as cold as a refrigerator year-round,” Brand noted. He directed us to a sisal mat laid out on the floor topped with one of the thin blankets, no longer than four feet. “It was just like this, plus three blankets,” he said. “No sheets, no cover, no pillow, no nothing. Sometimes they might put their book under a blanket and use it as a pillow. They didn’t get mattresses until 1980.”
“I’d be on patrol and I’d walk by Mandela’s cell and I’d see him doing sit-ups and push-ups,” Brand recalled. “I’d ask him, why are you doing sit-ups at this time of night? He said, ‘Mr. Brand, I must warm up. I can’t sleep anymore. I need to warm up the body and try to sleep again once I get warmer.’”
Brand added that the B Section prisoners, those political prisoners incarcerated for life, “were treated worse than criminal prisoners.” As if the cold was not enough, there was execrable food and discriminatory allocation of rations. “The food on Robben Island was very poor,” Brand explained. “And there was discrimination. Black people received a bucket of porridge, no sugar, no milk, and a cup of coffee, no sugar, no milk. The coloured [sic] prisoners received a nicer quality porridge with sugar and milk, a piece of bread with white margarine and jam, along with coffee with milk and sugar. Indian prisoners received slightly more.”
The Gift of Human Kindness
One of our last stops after visiting Mandela’s cell was the visitation booth, which was separated by a wall and a viewing window slightly larger than A3 paper. Both parties had to speak in either Afrikaans or English, as the meetings were recorded, necessitating that prison staff listening later be able to comprehend the conversations.
Visits from family members, the thing prisoners most anticipated, were emotional for both prisoners and visitors, as well as for sensitive warders like Christo Brand. “It was difficult to inform them they only had five minutes left when they’d only been talking for 25 and hadn’t seen each other in months,” he reflected.
On one occasion, Mandela’s wife, Winnie, disembarked from the ferry on a rainy winter day, wrapped in a large blanket. When Brand discovered that beneath the blanket was Winnie’s four-month-old grandchild, Zoleka, he was taken aback. Despite all her pleas, Brand told her she had to leave the child with other visitors. As he positioned himself behind Mandela to supervise the visit, Winnie told her husband she had brought his grandchild, but she was not allowed to show him. Mandela begged to see the baby, but Brand and another guard insisted it was impossible. However, Brand felt this was unjust. Returning to the waiting area, he asked Winnie if he could hold the baby and swiftly disappeared. He then returned to the visitation booth and held out the child to Mandela. “He held her and just said, ‘Oh,’ and I saw tears in his eyes as he kissed the baby,” Brand recounted.
Only Brand and Mandela knew of this moment. Mandela expressed his gratitude, recognizing that the warder could have lost his job and he himself would have lost privileges. “This moment that passed between us, this silent understanding, was very special to Mandela,” Brand said. “After that moment, we became allies for life.”
Robben Island: Now a Symbol of Hope and Reconciliation
On the packed ferry back to Cape Town, I pondered the irony of Robben Island: the island that once represented everything that was most reprehensible about apartheid is now a beacon of hope and reconciliation, as well as a Unesco World Heritage Site symbolizing the triumph of the human spirit over adversity. I also reflected on the unlikely friendship between Brand and Mandela, considering the strange twist of fate that brought them together. Mandela and Brand remained close friends right up until Mandela’s death.
As the boat approached the Nelson Mandela Gateway, I concluded that the special bond shared by Mandela and Brand perfectly embodies the spirit of hope and reconciliation.
Practicalities
The fee for a private tour with Christo Brand is R6000 (US$407). Note that this is only the guiding fee and is a set fee regardless of the group size, subject to COVID-19 restrictions. Ferry tickets, private vehicle, and driver on the island can be arranged directly with Robben Island. Access to Mandela’s cell depends on the group size and is not guaranteed (standard group tours typically do not have access to Mandela’s cell). Brand’s tour also provides exclusive access to the solitary confinement house of Robert Sobukwe, another significant South African political dissident and founder of the Pan Africanist Congress.
