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It is not often that I relish reporting the news of someone’s death, but I am absolutely prepared to make an exception in this particular case.
Winnie (Necklace) Mandela has died, and speaking and writing purely as one who does not believe in any religion these days: hopes that the Pope is vastly mistaken, and there is a Hell, for surely that is the one destination so deserved of one so evil that her very name makes my blood curdle.
She instigated the protection gang known as Mandela United Football Club. They had, and earned, a feared and fearsome reputation as a hardline protection mob, with the added ferocity of instant retribution if anyone was declared to be an ‘informer’.
Such was the fate of Stompie Seipei Moeketsi, a ten year-old follower of Winnie Mandela, and a junior member of the Mandela club. Some plan had gone awry, some action which wouldn’t have been passed if placed under the eagle eye of Nelson Mandela; and the search for the informer pointed straight at little Stompie. She claimed to have ‘rescued’ him from child sexual abuse, but I shudder to think of what happened to that small boy. His body was found, severely beaten, with his throat slit wide open, as he was suspected of being a police informer. Winnie’s fate? She paid a fine!
She was said to have invented the ‘Necklace’ method of murder, where a tyre was forced over the shoulders of the suspected informer. The inner of the tyre was then filled with petrol, and set alight. No-one ever survived a necklacing!
Mandela himself was a terrorist, a murderous planner and a thug, but he was also shrewd and foresighted, which was why he divorced her some years after he was freed.
In a gesture which surely qualified as The World’s Most Sardonic Statement, she was awarded the Robert F. Kennedy Human Rights Award.
She died from a ‘long illness’. She will not be missed!