Deep Listening by Emily Kasriel ISBN 9780008653330, 9780008653323, 000865333X, 0008653321 instant download

Deep Listening by Emily Kasriel ISBN 9780008653330, 9780008653323, 000865333X, 0008653321 instant download

South Africa, troops were amassing on the seat of government.

As BBC Africa’s new reporter, I needed to get to Pretoria fast.

Hundreds of soldiers, former members of the ANC’s armed

wing, shifted restlessly outside the Union Buildings, demanding

to see their president. From here, they could see the lights of

Pretoria. Above them, protected by armed police, stood the

sweeping floodlit temple. It had long stood as testament to

South Africa’s turbulent history – from the administrative heart

of the apartheid regime to the inauguration of the first

democratically elected president, Nelson Mandela. The Union

Buildings could be about to witness another monumental

moment.

‘We’ve fought too long and hard to be treated like this,’ a

soldier protested, ‘to be oppressed by our new bosses – white

officers, our enemy – with food not fit for dogs.’ Across the

manicured lawn, a group of liberation veterans huddled

together, their weathered faces illuminated by the soft glow of

cigarettes. ‘All of us here are soldiers. But in the MK [the

ANC’s armed wing], I was a lieutenant – now I’m only a

sergeant,’ one of them grumbled, his eyes fixed on the

expansive sandstone façade of the presidential headquarters.

‘Madiba needs to understand. He knows our pain, our sacrifice.

We need to speak to Mandela.’ His voice rose. ‘We fought for

him. We need to speak to him now.’

Eyes were cast skyward. Waiting. And waiting. The night grew

longer. The rumours swirled and multiplied.

Faintly at first and then with increasing strength, a swish of

rotating blades. A helicopter sliced through the inky night.

Nelson Mandela, their leader, had heard their cries.

The rigged-up podium was waiting, but remained curiously

empty. Looking for the president, I was surprised to stumble

across Mandela’s tall resolute presence far from the stand,

tailed by bodyguards. Armed with his upright posture and

transcendent reputation, he slowly wove through the