An inspiring love: 'Zeldina' and her 'Khulu'

In 'Good Morning, Mr Mandela', Zelda la Grange tells the compelling story of how a 23-year-old typist from a conservative Afrikaans family went on to become Nelson Mandela's trusted personal assistant for 19 years. We publish edited extracts from the book

Zelda la Grange meets Nelson Mandela for the first time:

HE extended his hand first to shake mine; I was confused and not sure whether it was proper for me to greet him. I said: "Good morning, Mr Mandela." One doesn't really know what to do at that point except cry. Which I did. It was all too much.

I was sobbing. He then spoke to me, but I didn't understand him and was completely in shock. I had to say "Excuse me Mr President" for him to repeat what he had just said to me, and after gathering my thoughts or guts - I'm not sure which - I realised that he had addressed me in Afrikaans, my home language.

He was visibly old and appeared kind. I focused on the wrinkles on his face and his warm, sincere smile. He spoke with a caring voice and in a kind manner and asked me my name. I was ready to pull back my hand after shaking his, but he held on. I could feel the texture of his hand on mine and I started perspiring.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hold this black man's hand. I wanted him to let go but he didn't, and he asked where I came from and where I worked.

I wasn't sure whether to answer in Afrikaans or English and cannot remember which I chose, but we conversed in a mixture of Afrikaans and English. I was completely overtaken by emotion and couldn't continue.

I then had a feeling of guilt that swept over me. I felt guilty that this kindly spoken man with gentle eyes and generosity of spirit spoke to me in my own language after "my people" had sent him to jail for so many years.

Mr Mandela noticed that I was unable to continue our conversation and still held on to my hand as he put his left hand on my shoulder and tapped it while he said: "It's OK, calm down. I think you are overreacting."

Zelda, whom Mandela fondly nicknamed Zeldina, travelled the world with Madiba. One of the most intriguing visits, after Mandela retired as president, was to Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi:

IT was always entertaining to see the Brother Leader. One waited for days and days to receive word from him and then suddenly everyone had to jump and move to where he was hiding, sometimes in the desert, always fearing surprise attacks by the West in retaliation for the Lockerbie bombing.

On this particular visit he invited us to dinner, and during our audience with him in the afternoon he asked what he could prepare for us that night. By then I had been with Madiba when he had seen the Brother Leader on a few occasions and your face becomes familiar. He treated me with great respect and made me feel at home.

Earlier in the afternoon, Madiba and I had a discussion about camel meat as we drove past camels and, when asked by the Brother Leader what we wanted for dinner, Madiba felt it was appropriate to ask for camel meat. "Of course," the Brother Leader responded.

The camel meat tasted exactly like lamb. I was later told that they had to slaughter baby camels because the meat became tough the older the camel grew.

I was not going to encourage the slaughter of baby animals, so I never wanted to eat camel again. But it was a rare occasion that a head of state would ask Madiba what he wanted for dinner and I quite liked that Gaddafi was so considerate.

When Mandela addressed the Palestinian parliament from a text prepared by Professor Jakes Gerwel, nobody predicted an unexpected twist at the end:

MADIBA was scheduled to address the Palestinian parliament on the day before our departure. Prof Gerwel edited the speech back in South Africa and e-mailed the new version to me. I didn't have time to read it and somehow a virus of some sort crept into the computer program.

The last sentence of the speech ended with a mathematical formula. Madiba also didn't read the final edits and, as a result, he read out the maths at the end of the speech. It was in letters and, although I cannot remember the exact words, it was something like: "For every two equals four minus seven times eight. I thank you." We were all puzzled, but after his speech the entire Palestinian parliament rose to their feet in resounding applause. The speech was translated simultaneously and either the translator didn't translate the maths formula, or translated it into something profound. We were all surprised by the occurrence of this virus, but amused by the fact that no one picked up on it. Prof Gerwel and I had many laughs about this incident for years to follow.

In 2000, Mandela flew to London for a royal engagement. Only he could get away with a casual way of addressing the queen:

ON May 3, we paid a one-day visit to London in order to appear in the royal court in London, following Madiba's appointment as a Queen's Counsel by his friend Queen Elizabeth. We really tried to convince him not to travel to London for one day, but he insisted. He wanted to honour his warm friendship with the queen. I think he was one of very few people who called her by her first name and she seemed to be amused by it. I was entertained by these interactions. When he was questioned one day by Mrs Machel and told that it was not proper to call the queen by her first name, he responded: "But she calls me Nelson." On one occasion when he saw her he said: "Oh Elizabeth, you've lost weight!" Not something everybody gets to tell the queen of England.

No matter where he was, Mandela always wanted to hear Graça Machel's voice:

MADIBA had this strange habit of keeping his watch on local South African time, no matter where in the world we were travelling. We had to wake up at the strangest hours in order for him not to adjust his body clock to the time difference too much so that he would not suffer from jet lag when we returned home. And then, wherever we were in the world, in whatever time zone, we had to call Mrs Machel wherever she was in the morning and in the evening. I remember being in Seoul and not finding Mrs Machel immediately and Madiba insisting on staying awake until we did. It was one of those precious things he insisted on, being a husband. She had to be called in the morning before she had breakfast and in the evening before she went to sleep. "How are you, Mum, how was your day?" he would say.

Wherever he went, Mandela was at pains to never take advantage of his hosts. Bad behaviour by members of his entourage during a fundraising trip to Kuwait unleashed Mandela's wrath:

WE'VE all taken bath soaps or toiletries in our own bathrooms when travelling to luxury hotels. In this particular guesthouse, Madiba's bathroom was stocked with an expensive brand of soaps, aftershave, body wash, and so on. While we were at an appointment away from the guesthouse, someone, presumably a bodyguard because they were the only ones who remained behind, decided to help himself to some of these toiletries in Madiba's bathroom. Little did he know that Madiba had taken note of every item in his bathroom before we left. On our return, he noticed that something was missing and he called all the security detail to stand parade. He also called me and told me to come in as a "witness". The lawyer in Madiba was holding court. I wanted to hide my face in embarrassment on behalf of the bodyguards.

He questioned them and gave "the villain" the opportunity to replace the item or he would report him to the minister of police when we returned home, or else he would have all of them fired if the "villain" didn't come forward.

Madiba was very serious. The next morning the item was replaced and he forgot about it, as he promised he would. He didn't mind you taking the toiletries from your own bathroom, but not from his. And when we left, he didn't want to take any of the items in his bathroom with him; he left it all untouched and unopened. He never wanted to take advantage of our hosts and he expected everyone to behave that way.

Ten years after she started working for Mandela, Zelda joined him, Mum - as Graça Machel was known - and his family on a rare holiday, this time to Mauritius:

AFTER a few days, Madiba announced that he wanted to go into the water. We were hesitant because we were not sure whether he would be able to stand in the water. He was having difficulties walking and was using a walking stick.

Security took him down the terrace to the water and he sat on a chair in the water, allowing the waves to break over his feet. The pure joy on his face touched my heart in a way that is difficult to describe.

How could something so ordinary, something we take for granted, bring such pleasure to a human being?

We then discovered that Madiba hadn't swum in the sea for more than 40 years.

The last time he had been in the ocean was when he removed seaweed from the water while on Robben Island, but that was manual labour under the watchful eye of prison guards and in the cold Atlantic Ocean, and at the same time he slipped on the rocks and injured his knee for ever. This was so different.

Mum helped him to experience the simple things again, like family meals, sunshine and appreciating the beauty of life in flowers, landscapes and music - things that just seemed to pass him by after his release.

Mandela lived for politics and his humanitarian efforts. Hollywood stars did not feature in his world-view, even if they were as famous as Brad Pitt:

I TRIED to explain to Madiba who Brad Pitt was, but it was difficult. When they finally met the next day, Madiba asked (as he usually did) whether Brad had a business card with him. Of course Brad didn't.

Madiba asked: "So what do you do?" I luckily had explained to Brad that he had to understand that Madiba was not aware of developments in Hollywood and the film industry in general.

And Brad was every bit gracious in his response and said: "I try acting for a living." I added "and he is very modest because he is one of the best actors in the world".

Brad didn't make a fuss, nor was he surprised or embarrassed in any way. He was a true gentleman.

Mandela starts showing signs of advanced age:

MADIBA sometimes called me from home to say that he was about to take the lift down to the ground floor in his house. He was scared of being stuck in the lift and I needed to call him in 10 minutes to make sure that he was not stuck.

At the time I thought it was funny, but I now become sad when I think of it.

Being there and answering those calls made me love the man even more, perhaps the fact that he depended on me, yet it is exactly that admiration and love that caused so much animosity.

These calls also reminded me how much he had aged.

As Mandela neared the end of his life, certain family members obstructed access to him. Zelda was finding it difficult to gain access to her boss:

ON March 22, after his discharge, I tried to visit Madiba three times.

The first time I arrived at his house, Makaziwe was there. She had made it clear in a previous discussion about me that I was not welcome to see her father. I no longer had work to do there.

Mum had to defend me once again, arguing that she was willing to defend Madiba's decisions whether they liked it or not, and that she was going to see that his wishes were fulfilled until the day he passed on.

In the winter of 2013, a seriously ill Mandela spent 40 minutes on the highway in a broken-down vehicle in the middle of the night. The fallout highlighted the emotional stress Graça Machel was forced to endure as the wife of a world icon:

A FEW days later, the story about the ambulance that broke down as Madiba was transported to hospital made world headlines after it leaked to the media. Newspapers described Mrs Machel as being "frantic" during these events. The next day, Makaziwe entered the hospital calling Mrs Machel "Ms Frantic". Mum was hurt and emotionally brutalised and Josina Machel and I constantly tried to keep her strong by supporting her. Josina often went to support her mother whenever I couldn't.

Saying goodbye to Madiba:

THE last time I saw Madiba alive was on July 11 2013. I entered the hospital with Malenga Machel, Mrs Machel's son. Madiba could still open his eyes and show emotion, but then drifted off quickly.

I was shivering, standing next to his bed, shocked to see him in the state that he was in. I couldn't see his hands. I wanted to touch his hand but I couldn't find it.

I was helpless, numb. Mrs Machel told him I was there, but his eyes remained closed. She then nodded at me that it was okay to start speaking to him.

I knew I had to sound cheerful and not sad and said: "Hello, Khulu. It's Zeldina. I am here to see you ..." And there it was. He opened his eyes, followed by the biggest, brightest smile and he looked at me and fixed his eyes upon me. "How are you Khulu? You look well," I said, although he didn't. "I miss you, Khulu," I said, and he kept on smiling.

Mum and Malenga were making fun of me, joking that Madiba had not afforded others that smile, but to me he did.

'Good Morning, Mr Mandela'by Zelda la Grange is published by Penguin (R295) and will be in bookshops on Thursday