LONDON: Nelson Mandela was the last of a great generation of freedom fighters who guided South Africa’s liberation struggle from the early days of the African National Congress Youth League in the 1940s. South Africans have fond memories of these leaders — men and women such as Albertina and Walter Sisulu, Oliver Tambo, Anton Lembede and Govan Mbeki — particularly in today’s political climate, which is characterised by greed and rampant accumulation of wealth, often through corruption. These people demonstrated the kind of morality and selflessness that is lacking in South African political life today. That is why Mandela was loved by the majority of South Africans, black and white.

Each time he was taken ill, this outpouring of love came through clearly from radio talk show callers and TV vox pops. But that love is not universal in South Africa. There are many white die-hards who still see him as a terrorist who should never have been released. At the other end of the spectrum are the black youngsters who are disillusioned with the “new” South Africa and hold Mandela personally responsible for betraying the revolution.

Two years ago there was the first flurry of speculation on his medical condition. South Africans feared that he was either dying or was already dead. But some black youths were in despair for different reasons. Malaika wa Azania, a 19-year-old radical from Soweto who was at that time gaining a following among youth throughout the country, posted on Facebook: “Mandela must not die yet. No no no. That would be unfair. People don’t get away with crime. Neither must he ...” To her, the settlement between the ANC and the apartheid government in the early 1990s was a fraud perpetrated on black people who are yet to regain their land, stolen by whites during colonial conquest.

This young woman is not a voice in the wilderness. One of the many who think like her is Andile Mngxitama, who travels the country rallying youth against the establishment, which he feels continues to be anti-black.

I understand the disillusionment of these young people, although I do not share their perspective. To me, Mandela was neither the devil they make him out to be nor the saint that most of my compatriots and the international community think he was. I see him as a skilful politician, smart enough to resist the megalomania that comes with deification. The policy of reconciliation was not ill-advised; it saved the country from a bloodbath and ushered in a period of prosperity.

But therein lies the rub. The distribution of that prosperity was very skewed. South Africa has never been a place of equal opportunity, and that was reinforced instead of changed by Mandela’s presidency. His focus on the symbols and atmospherics of reconciliation was at the expense of real economic reform. The disillusionment of young black South Africans began when he was president. So did the unbridled accumulation of wealth by the ruling party apparatchiks, accompanied by the marginalisation of all those deemed to lack “struggle credentials”. While cadres of the party gained positions of power and wealth, the rest of the black population remained poor and unemployed.

In December 1997 I wrote to Mandela, lamenting the corruption, patronage and crony capitalism. “The youth have a perception that generally our political leaders are thoroughly rotten,” I wrote. “Many of our youth are despondent and have lost hope. The older ones talk of having been used as cannon fodder in the struggle, yet now they are forgotten while the leaders ride on the gravy train.” Mandela was concerned, but couldn’t rein in his comrades’ greed.

I admired Mandela as a statesman: he came out of prison speaking of compassion and inclusiveness. I was surprised by his tone of tolerance and reconciliation, having known him from the early 1950s when he worked with my father, Ashby Peter Mda. Mandela was a fire-breathing revolutionary then.

Despite those early connections, I have been critical of some of his positions, such as when he lamented the death of a murderous African dictator, Sani Abacha, as a loss to Africa, or when he defended the deputy speaker of parliament who was alleged to have obtained a fraudulent driver’s licence.

Mandela was extremely loyal, sometimes to a fault. This led to the false perception that he condoned corruption. In fact, in his later years, he was a victim of that very corruption, surrounded by characters who were keen to cash in on his name and even his death. Now he has taken leave of us and our problems.

He has earned his rest.

By arrangement with the Guardian