Francois Pienaar was the "big blonde son of apartheid," a white South African who grew up dreaming of glory on the rugby field.
He
became a star and the captain of South Africa's national rugby team --
a sport hated by many black South Africans as the game of their
oppressors.
But on June 12, 1994, Nelson Mandela summoned Pienaar to his office to ask him to play a more dramatic role.
As
Mandela served Pienaar coffee with milk, he gave the star rugby player
snippets of his audacious plan. That plan would electrify South Africa,
stretch Pienaar to his physical and emotional limits, and cement
Mandela's reputation as a transcendent leader.
"I left that first meeting with the feeling that we were in good hands in South Africa," Pienaar said. "I felt safe with him."
What
happened after Pienaar's meeting with Mandela was so magical that it
seemed to unfold like a movie. Now, 15 years later, it is. "Invictus,"
a Clint Eastwood-directed film on Mandela, opens nationally this
Friday. Morgan Freeman stars as Mandela and Matt Damon plays Pienaar.
The film (made by Warner Bros. Pictures,
which, like CNN, is a unit of Time Warner) depicts the South African
rugby team's surprising run at the 1995 Rugby World Cup. It is based on
the 2008 book, "Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game That
Made a Nation."
John
Carlin, author of "Playing the Enemy," said Mandela used the World Cup
final to win the allegiance of a group of people who had largely
applauded his 27-year imprisonment, and threatened to push South Africa
into a civil war.
"It was on that day [the day of the Rugby
World Cup final] that white South Africa finally, categorically
accepted him as their rightful president, the president of all South
Africans," Carlin said.
The 'son of apartheid' comes of age
The film also looks at the evolution of Pienaar, and, by extension, Mandela's longtime enemy, the Afrikaners.
Afrikaners
are the descendents of the Dutch pioneers that settled South Africa in
the 17th century. They became the primary enforcers of apartheid, a
brutal system of racial segregation.
In his book, Carlin
described Pienaar as the "big blonde son of apartheid," a 6-foot-4,
240-pound man who grew up worshipping the violent sport of rugby, an
obsession for many Afrikaners. Rugby is known as "the opium of the
Afrikaner," says Carlin.
Like many Afrikaners, Pienaar said he didn't question the morality of apartheid growing up, nor did he think much of Mandela, who was considered a terrorist by many white South Africans.
"Sadly,
I couldn't say that I did," he said. "I didn't oppose apartheid.
Politics wasn't on my radar screen. I saw the divisions in life and in
school, but I just didn't ask why."
Mandela did ask about those
divisions in South Africa and it cost him much of his life. Today, most
people know Mandela as the former anti-apartheid activist with the
grandfatherly smile, silver hair and the dignified bearing.
But
the younger Mandela was like a "young, brash Muhammad Ali" in his youth
who enraged, and spooked white South Africans, Carlin writes in his
book.
I can't tell you how nervous I was. I didn't know what he was going to ask me.
--Francois Pienaar
Mandela publicly tore up the pass that
black South Africans were forced to carry for travel and once boldly
predicted that he would someday be South Africa's first black
president, says Carlin. He sometimes wore camouflage gear in public and
advocated armed resistance when years of nonviolent resistance failed.
He
was also a showman. He liked to show off his muscled physique honed by
boxing and dressed like a dandy as a young man in the 1940s, Carlin
notes.
"He was the only black man who had his suits cut by the
same tailor as South Africa's richest man, the gold and diamond magnate
Harry Oppenheimer," Carlin wrote in "Playing the Game."
Mandela plays the enemy
Mandela's dashing public persona came to an end in 1964, just as his legend began to grow. He
was arrested and sentenced to life in prison for crimes against the
state of South Africa. He was sent to Robben Island, a desolate rock
off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa. He would stay imprisoned for 27 years.
Robben
Island was designed to break prisoner's will. It seemed to make
Mandela's will even stronger. His cell was smaller than the average
white South African's bathroom, Carlin noted. He slept on a straw mat
with three thin blankets, and bathed with buckets of frigid Atlantic
seawater.
Pienaar said he first visited Mandela's Robben Island
jail cell just days before the 1995 World Cup final. When that scene
was shown during an "Invictus" premiere, Pienaar said that he lost it.
"I
just bawled," Pienaar said. "That's the part of the movie that got to
me the most. I just thought to myself, how could we have done this to
this man for 27 years?"
Mandela, however, was preoccupied with
other things during his captivity. He used that time to learn how to
"play the enemy," Carlin said.
Mandela had faith he would be
released one day and become the leader of a new South Africa. But first
he had to understand, and enlist the support of Afrikaner leaders,
Carlin said.
"He worked at it in prison, the great laboratory
for the political offensive he would launch the day he left prison,"
Carlin said. "He got to know his enemy -- the Afrikaner -- through the
jailers, whose language he learnt; whose history he read; whose foibles
and vanities and strengths he learned to understand."
Near the
end of his prison term, guards treated Mandela like a head of state.
Some became his personal friends. One guard even sneaked his baby boy
into prison for Mandela to see, Carlin said.
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