WARNING: This is Version 1 of my old archive, so Photos will NOT work and many links will NOT work. But you can find articles by searching on the Titles. There is a lot of information in this archive. Use the SEARCH BAR at the top right. Prior to December 2012; I was a pro-Christian type of Conservative. I was unaware of the mass of Jewish lies in history, especially the lies regarding WW2 and Hitler. So in here you will find pro-Jewish and pro-Israel material. I was definitely WRONG about the Boeremag and Janusz Walus. They were for real.
Original Post Date: 2008-06-28 Time: 19:00:08 Posted By: Jan
Carl Niehaus has worn many hats in his full life. He wears a whole bunch of new ones now – but there’s only one word he would like to be described as today: happy.
It’s difficult though for the man South Africa got to know as Nelson Mandela’s spokesperson in the heady days between Mandela’s release and the watershed elections on April 27 1994.
One thing that stands in the way of that happiness are utterances like ANC Youth League president Julius Malema’s on Youth Day that he would “take up arms and kill” for ANC president Jacob Zuma – a comment that was reiterated and defended by Cosatu boss Zwelinzima Vavi.
Niehaus knows what it means to walk the walk, rather than just talking it; he was sentenced to 15 years in jail for working for the ANC underground, he was brutally gang-raped in prison – arranged by the warders on duty – and then emerged early from jail to work towards a free and safe South Africa.
“I’m so unhappy about those comments. It didn’t help him and it certainly didn’t help [Zuma].
“Malema should have used that day to celebrate the milestone that was achieved all those years ago.
“I do believe there are those within the organisation who are capable of becoming the leaders of our country.
“There are lots of youths within the league who are far more successful – and moderate – than Malema, but they don’t get the leadership positions because they aren’t outspoken. It’s people like Malema and these types of statements that weigh the Youth League down,” he says.
Niehaus has travelled a long road to reconciling his past with his present.
“I’m somehow still every day serving the sentence that was imposed on my life in the dingy cells of John Vorster Square, Diepkloof Prison and Pretoria Security Prison. There is no timeline, it is indeterminate.
“I am only now starting to understand the full horrible details of my past. I’m only now ready to face them and truly heal. But I know I’m still a long way off.”
Earlier this month Niehaus, now 48, revealed for the first time in 25 years of the unspeakable torture by security police and a brutal rape by at least 20 white men in prison on the eve of his sentencing – Malema would have been aged 2 at the time.
“I read about so many cases of awaiting-trial prisoners being raped in prison recently – it struck a chord. I kept quiet about my ordeal for so long, but reading those reports urged me speak out.”
Niehaus said he was uncomfortable about talking about the rape and uncertain about the response he would receive, but his blog, he says, began to feel like a convenient and safe place to unearth his secrets.
He used the writer’s tool of addressing a letter to his 11-year-old daughter, Helen, to break the news of his prison experience.
“I’d been writing the blog for a while and I just became more and more comfortable with it.
“Addressing the letter to my daughter made it easier for me to express myself.”
In the blog, Niehaus wrote: “My dear Helen … You are so young, and so full of love and joy, especially when you are home and surrounded by your ‘little zoo’ of animals.
“I look at you and I wonder if I should ever tell you some of the things about Daddy’s past… But my dear, how will you ever understand if I don’t tell you?
“The Truth and Reconciliation Commission got some of us to recall these things but in a strange way – because it was primarily a political process with an end goal to put a decent full-stop behind the past and to get the country to move on and face the future – it revealed and then repressed even more.
“‘Now that you have stripped and showed us your wounds, put on your clothes and get moving; there is a lot to do’ … that kind of thing.
“In a couple of years’ time when you are older and you begin to understand, or think you understand more with the brutal frankness of a teenager; then please don’t think I’ve written this to make you feel sorry for me.”
Niehaus then describes the “awful night” when he was gang-raped in Diepkloof Prison the night prior to being sentenced.
“One of the warders, who hated me for – in his view – having betrayed the Afrikaners, took me out of my single cell and locked me up for the night in a cell with common-law prisoners.
“I don’t know exactly how many men did it, but it was more than 20. It just went on and on. At the end, I was torn and bleeding badly, the next morning when I had to get up those stairs from the cells underneath the courtroom I couldn’t without the assistance of one of the warders.
“Then I was sentenced for 15 years and taken to Pretoria Security Prison, where there was a closed circuit camera all the time in my cell and I was too ashamed and scared to turn my back to the camera in case the warders see the bloody mess that my backside had been turned into and think it a good idea to repeat it again.
“The wounds healed, but the pain never stopped. Nor the pain of the torture during interrogation: When one’s not allowed to sleep for more than a week, when day and night no longer follow and all becomes a mixture of fear about when you will hear the footsteps down the corridor that announces the next beating-up session.”
This week Niehaus explained that he had been able to successfully hide and bury the trauma he had endured as a political prisoner for a long time. He had been damaged, though, and his past had shaped the person he eventually became.
“I once sat in parliament as an MP just after our first democratic election and I started counting the years that my colleagues have spent in prison – I stopped counting at 3 000 years,” he recalled.
“It’s important for people to see the apartheid stalwarts in context, see where they are coming from. We probably don’t realise how many of our current politicians had been imprisoned like I was, beaten and tortured for information. Many of us have never dealt with it. We all just managed to live it.”
In his blog Niehaus wrote that he would never be sorry for the decisions he had taken – to fight the evil of racism.
When Niehaus was released in 1991 he was made a member of the ANC’s negotiation commission and became elected to the provincial executive council of the ANC in the PWV region (now known as Gauteng).
He became director of the national media liaison unit of the ANC and spokesperson for Mandela.
He describes his time with Mandela as “the most exciting time of my life”.
“What an amazing man,” he said with a broad smile. “He epitomises what is the best of this country. He is the most respectful man and politician I have ever seen.
“And he was the same in public as he was in private,” he added.
“He negotiated with such integrity and treated everyone with dignity. He always said people shouldn’t think with their blood. But as respectful as he was during his negotiations, he knew when to put his foot down. I learnt so much from him.”
Niehaus doesn’t have much contact with Madiba – “he doesn’t need me to impose myself on him”.
“I wish people would demand less of him. He needs to be spending his time with his family.”
And family is also Niehaus’s priority now. He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes as he made with his first wife, Jansie.
The couple met when they were both 19 and students at Rand Afrikaans University. It was Jansie who recruited Niehaus, who planned to study theology at the time, into the freedom struggle.
At 23 they were imprisoned for high treason for planning to blow up a gas factory in Joburg.
Niehaus was sentenced to 15 years and Jansie to four. After serving three years, they married in prison.
“After we were out of prison, I was so busy with my party duties, the only time I saw her was when she was sleeping. It was not healthy. It wasn’t right. We eventually separated,” he said, refusing to give details.
“But we had a beautiful daughter, Helen [named after anti-apartheid activist Helen Joseph]. She’s such a loving child. I love her to bits.”
Niehaus now lives with his second wife, Mafani, who he describes as his rock, and her two young children.
“I’m so grateful to Mafani. She gave me space and created an environment where I feel safe. She gives me a huge amount of love, protection and trust.”
In 2001 Niehaus was diagnosed with cancer – an experience which forced him to regroup and take stock of his life.
“I had been working so hard on so many different things. It made me ask myself whether it’s worth working every waking moment of the day.
“The cancer is in remission now, but if I had only a few years to live, I wouldn’t want to spend it working.”
And now that Niehaus owns his own business, which facilitates dialogue between the government and the private sector, he is able to determine his pace, so as to not go into overdrive.
“I grew up in Zeerust, in the bush. Now safaris and game drives are one of my favourite things to do. I want to start writing – it is my passion – and painting and listen to more of my favourite jazz music. But I still hope that I can make a positive contribution to this country.
“Most of all, I want to work on my relationship with my wife and children. I can’t predict what the future holds for me, but I’m not too worried about the details.
“If I live to be 90 like Madiba, I hope that they will be happy years. That’s all I want. I want to be happy.”