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Willie Mandela

and her local supporters

This is Dark Cloud on Wednesday, February 15, 1989.

The demise of Willie Mandela is an illustrative example of how fame, power, and perceived moral superiority corrupt. The worship of this most curious creature and her elevation to a status somehow equal to her husband is a clear lesson in cliché usage: the enemy of your enemy may be your friend. But the spouse of your friend isn't necessarily. Winnie Mandela went on speaking tours, received visitors, and treated herself way too well. And what were her credentials for this adoration?

Well, she was Black and in South Africa. Even the most revolting conservative cannot defend apartheid. She was a woman. She is married to genuine hero and martyr. Has she, however, done anything or risked anything to deserve her status? Not a wit. She is a just a revolting appendage, cashing in on a horrid situation. One of the reasons Nelson Mandela never became a goal of Amnesty International is that he, and evidently his bride, would never absolutely denounce violence.

Now that Mandela stands well accused of not only condoning but participating in beating deaths of young men barely in their teens, let us watch the reactions of their local adorers, the ones who could not open their mouths or put pen to paper without summoning Winnie Mandela’s spiritual presence will have to deal with a public trial of their judgment and wisdom. The comparison is to the followers of Jimmy Swaggert. The god-head falters and adorers have to question their values.

But where, oh where, are the expressions of shock and dismay from Winnie's local soccer club supporters? Muted, perhaps? Non existent. They either never cared or never believed. Hypocritical, yes, but a fairly disgusting indictment of American activists, whatever, precisely, they are.