You Don'T Know Xviii Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

You don't know…
Prisoner 466/64
You don't know.

From a ‘special letter' to Winnie Mandela,
Dated 16 July 1969, on the death of his son Thembi.

This afternoon the Commanding Officer received the following telegram from attorney, Mendel Levin:

‘Please advise Nelson Mendela his [son] Thimbekle passed away 13th instant result motor accident in Cape Town'

"I find it difficult to believe that I will never see Thembi again. On February 23 he turned 24. I had seen him towards the end of July 1962 a few days after I had returned from the trip abroad. Then he was a lusty lad of 17 that I could never associate with death. He wore one of my trousers which was a shade too big and long for him. The incident was significant and set me thinking. As you know he had a lot of clothing, was particular about his dress and had no reason whatsoever for using my clothes. I was deeply touched for the emotional factors underlying his action were too obvious. For days thereafter my mind and feelings were agitated to realize the psychological strains and stresses my absence from home had imposed on the children. I recalled an incident in December 1956 when I was awaiting trial prisoner at the Johannesburg Fort. At that time Kagatho was 6 and lived in Orlando East. Although he well knew that I was in jail he went over to Orlando West and told Ma that he longed for me. That night he slept in my bed.
But let me return to my meeting with Thembi. He had come to bid me farewell on his way to boarding school. On his arrival he greeted me very warmly, holding my hand firmly and for some time. Thereafter we sat down and conversed. Somehow the conversation drifted to his studies, and he gave me what I considered, in the light of his age at the time, to be an interesting appreciation of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar which I very much enjoyed.
We had been corresponding regularly ever since he went to school at Matatiele and when he later changed to Wodehouse.
In December 1960 I travelled some distance by car to meet him. Throughout this time I regarded him as a child and I approached him from that angle. But our conversation in July 1962 remind me I was no longer speaking to a child but to one who was beginning to have a settled attitude in life. He had suddenly raised himself from a son to a friend. I was indeed a bit sad when we ultimately parted. I could neither accompany him to a bus stop nor see him off at the station, for an outlaw, such as I was at the time, must be ready to give up even important parental duties. So it was my son, no! my friend, stepped out alone to fend for himself in a world where I could only meet him secretly and once in a while. I knew you had bought him clothing and given him some cash, but nevertheless I emptied my pockets and transferred all the copper and silver that a wretched fugitive could afford.
During the Rivonia Case he sat behind me one day. I kept looking back, nodding to him and giving him a broad smile. At the time it was generally believed that we would certainly be given the extreme penalty and this was clearly written across his face. Though he nodded back as many times as I did to him, not once he returned the smile. I never dreamt that I would never see him again. That was 5 years ago…
Never before I have longed for you than at the present moment…"

Conversations with Myself, Nelson Mandela,2010, New York.

Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
September 2,2014.