What made Eddy throw in his lot with Mandela

'PEOPLE are pleasantly surprised,' said Eddy von Maltitz, leader of a far-right grouping called Resistance Against Communism (RAC). He was describing his followers' response to South Africa's first black-led government. 'I'm proud of Nelson Mandela. I don't differ at all with Mr Mandela's fundamental objectives. I just hope we can help him.'

Six months ago Mr von Maltitz, a karate black belt and former soldier, was finalising the far right's plans for war. He claimed he had 7,000 highly-trained fighters under his command, among them his teenage son and daughter. In alliance with Eugene Terreblanche's Afrikaner Resistance Movement (AWB), the Wit Wolwe (White Wolves) and dozens of other like-minded groupings, he was conspiring, he said, to detonate 2,000 bombs around the country in the week before the 27 April elections. He had taken part in the storming of Johannesburg's World Trade Centre where the leadership of the African National Congress, the National Party and others were putting the final touches to the new democratic constitution.

'We're not asking for the Boer republics, we're not asking for our homeland,' he would tell reporters. 'We're taking them.' As for Mr Mandela, the position was straightforward: 'The man's a terrorist leader.' But since the pre-electoral spasm when three bombs went off in Johannesburg, killing 21 people, South Africa's far right has fallen quiet.

Ficksburg, deep in the Orange Free State on the Lesotho border, used to be the right-wing heartland. Today at the Hoogland Hotel, on the placid main square, you see a black man in a suit talking earnestly in Afrikaans over lunch with two large white men. On to the verandah, you see a black man and a white man, chatting unself-consciously over a beer.

It was on the verandah, that Mr von Maltitz told how the universe had changed since the inauguration of President Mandela. Not that he had changed his style of dress - green military jump suit, light green camouflage boots, 9mm pistol - but, eager to make a point, he greeted black passers-by in Sotho, the local language.

The turning point for Eddy came one night two weeks before the elections, when he phoned Johannesburg's Radio 702 to speak to the studio guest, Mr Mandela. 'This country will be embroiled in a bloodbath if you carry on walking with the Communist thugs', he warned. 'Well, Eddy,' Mr Mandela replied. 'I regard you as a worthy South African and I have no doubt that if we sit down and exchange views I will come closer to you and you will come closer to me.'

Eddy was completely disarmed. 'Let's talk, Eddy.' 'OK, Mr Mandela.' Recalling the exchange, he exclaimed: 'I tell you, we got on like a house on fire]' The President's behaviour since then has only reinforced his new-found faith. 'It's the way he has reached out to the Boer. When he said, for example, that everyone should learn Die Stem (white South Africa's national anthem), that really charmed me. He's an honest man. He has integrity, empathy. He's a man who has made a great sacrifice for his cause - unlike De Klerk, who never made a sacrifice in his life.'

Eddy has also been charmed by the premier of the Orange Free State, Terror Lekota, elected on the back of the ANC's 88 per cent provincial majority. 'Terror called me several times to go to his birthday party over at the big house in Bloemfontein. It was a tough decision, but I'd already convinced the far right to give these guys a chance and they said I should go. I went and we got on just great. I'm proud of Terror. He goes down to the grass roots. The National Party never invited me to that house, they never dirtied their hands with the grass roots.'

Mr Lekota had also done something no National Party leader had done - he had personally thanked him for the contribution he had made to the economy through his dairy farm. 'If it were a straight choice between the ANC and the National Party, I'd choose the ANC any time', he said. 'Look, I don't want to be dishonest. I was wrong. Those people said they would nationalise, they would take away our land. Before the elections we expected mass lootings in the cities, total lawlessness, total disinvestment. That's why I called out the dogs of war.

'Now I've called them off. I've put my neck on the line, so it means I've an interest in seeing things go right. I want to do my bit to prevent violence, to have stability and the foreign investment the country needs.'

Any worries? 'Yes. There's the education of our kids. There's religion. We'll see what the government does. And if the economy doesn't work out, we'll have chaos. So we're keeping our powder dry. I've still got sand-bags around my house.'

And the Communists? 'Slovo gives me a pain,' he barked. Joe Slovo - Party chairman, Minister of Housing and Jewish to boot - has long been the right wing's biggest bugbear. But then the old Eddy remembered he was now the new Eddy. 'Well, really, I must say, Slovo is coming around, he's learning what has to be done.'

The real enemy is F W de Klerk's National Party. 'I detest them. They're despicable. They're corrupt. They used their long years in government to feather their nests. They did nothing for the country.' And they didn't invite him to the big house; they didn't speak to him on the phone; they didn't listen to his views; they didn't take him seriously; they treated him snootily and didn't show him the esteem he deserved.

Eddy loves Mr Mandela and Mr Lekota, because they love him.

(Photograph omitted)