(Johannesburg) Oxtail stew. It was the favorite dish of Nelson Mandela, the first black South African president and winner of apartheid. In his peaceful Johannesburg house, transformed into a chic hotel, a restaurant now offers it in ravioli to a somewhat intimidated clientele.
Bathed in sunlight thanks to its multiple skylights and bay windows, this old building in an affluent district of Johannesburg has kept only its white facade. The interior has been redone from floor to ceiling, having been butchered in recent years by unscrupulous squatters.
Mandela, often affectionately referred to as Madiba or Tata – nicknames now called rooms -, had moved there shortly after his release from prison in 1990. He spent eight years there, before moving a street further with his last wife. Graça Michel.
“When he arrived, he knocked on every door to introduce himself and invite the neighbors for tea,” says director Dimitri Maritz. “A Chinese neighbor did not recognize him and chased him away. When he realized he had slammed the door in Mandela’s face, he moved! “, He adds with a burst of laughter, not excluding the urban legend.
The hotel’s presidential suite opened in September, dubbed Sanctuary Mandela for guests to gather in the calm and positive energy of the late leader, was the great man’s bedroom.
The bathroom took the place of the bed and vice versa, but whatever, he slept there. And the window frames retain engravings of his grandson, his Robben Island prisoner number 466/64 and the word “Madiba.”
Released at the age of 71, the ex-public enemy number one wanted to enjoy the pretty things he had been deprived of during his 27 years in prison, as he recounts in his autobiography. The joy of her grandchildren, the beauty of a rose, a sip of sweet wine from the Cape region. Unthinkable to sulk his pleasure.
Neither museum nor mausoleum
“He was a simple, straightforward boss,” remembers his cook Xoliswa Ndoyiya with emotion, who simmered dishes for him for twenty years and now leads the restaurant team, whose menu is inspired by his tastes. .
“He was easy to please. He didn’t like to eat too much fat. Neither sugar. But the fruits yes, in shambles, at all meals “, lists this round woman, originally from the Xhosa ethnic group like her boss” who was more like a father “.
If the chef was looking to treat her guests to a dish less appreciated by Mandela, “he would say to me ‘Why don’t you feed me well? “So I felt guilty,” she smiles, referring to the grizzled giant with his hands in a dish of chicken – “he liked to eat it to the bone.”
He knew how to “put people at ease, treat us like we were family,” she smiles before silently crushing a tear.
The management wants to keep “a home atmosphere”, far from the museum or the mausoleum. Photos and prints show a Mandela clowning to amuse a baby, cig in his mouth in his strict young lawyer costume, or standing with open arms to read his newspaper.
“Here we are extending a legacy, but the place must remain alive, and financially autonomous”, unlike other places of apartheid memory which suffered during the medical confinement, said Mr. Maritz.
“We have a thousand anecdotes about Madiba and references all over the house, but we only tell customers if they ask questions.” No way to knock out those who are here to rest or have a good time.
We come to this haven of peace for Mandela, we come back for the place, hopes its director, who wants it to reflect two of the essential qualities of the beloved president of South Africans: “humility and elegance”.