𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗘 𝗠𝗨𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗥, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗚𝗢𝗗 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦

Faith, fraud, and the theft of ordinary lives.

A bit of a long read, but stick with me.

I was quietly minding my own Monday morning business when I saw on my friend Morné’s Facebook timeline that Connie Mulder died today, thirty-eight years ago. It reminded me how evil that man was. For those with short memories, or too young, he was infamous for the so-called Information Scandal (much like Israel’s hasbara, same book, same chapter).

Mulder was Minister of Information. During his tenure, the government spent R75 million on a secret information programme to counter hostility in the English and international press. This was when 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧 newspaper was launched.

The newspaper was first published on 7 September 1976, “founded” by businessman and sports administrator Louis Luyt (former president of the South African Rugby Football Union). It was established as the only major English-language daily that openly supported the ruling National Party government during apartheid, at a time when most English-language newspapers, like the 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐥, were critical of the regime and perceived as having a liberal bias.

Its origins sparked controversy. In 1978, the Muldergate Scandal, also known as the Information Scandal, exposed that the apartheid government’s Department of Information had secretly funded the newspaper through a covert slush fund, diverted from public money, including defence funds.

This was part of a broader secret propaganda effort to promote apartheid internationally and counter anti-apartheid media. The scandal caused a major political fallout, including the resignation of key figures such as Connie Mulder.

But the “illustrious” Mulder also had a PhD. His dissertation, 𝐃𝐢𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐥𝐨𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐩 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐕𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐞𝐫 (The Influence of the Bible on the Formation of the Afrikaans National Character), examined the Bible’s role in shaping Afrikaans cultural identity. (Sorry, I just had to run to the loo to throw up. Don’t get me started on this.)

𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗢𝗜𝗡𝗧

Anyway, let me get to the point. This man single-handedly had an enormous impact on my mother’s life (and mine). Through his pettiness, her whole life changed, and she died at fifty-two, a broken shadow of her former self.

Before he became Minister of Information, his portfolios included Interior and Bantu Administration/Plural Relations. (Yes, the latter was a real portfolio, you can’t make it up.) As Minister of Interior, he was also in charge of visas.

Back to my mom, Maria. She was progressive, vivacious, attractive, and could mesmerise you with her stories and laughter. Around 1974, I was ten, and we were living in a rent-controlled flat in Sea Point, called Lido Court.

We were incredibly happy there. At night, she would light candles, put on music, and invite friends around, often illegally, the domestic workers who lived in little “hokkies” behind the block. All jolly in our flat, with music on the record player.

Then she met a great man, an Austrian called Fritz. Fritz drove a yellow camper Kombi and was an excellent chef. He started a restaurant in Sea Point/Three Anchor Bay, right opposite the library, called 𝐂𝐚𝐟𝐞́ 𝐖𝐢𝐞𝐧. It was stylish, served fabulous food and lots of pastries and cakes.

The crème de la crème (or so I thought at the time, what did I know) hung out there, and he had a friend of my mother, Lady Peterson as she was known, play the piano. Lady Peterson was a cross-dresser and could sing like Marlene Dietrich.

It was a happy time. One day, I arrived at the flat and found my mom and Fritz crying. He was holding a copy of the 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐬. Fritz was on the front page. I couldn’t really understand why.

He was on the front page because Connie Mulder had decided to deport him. Why? Because when Fritz arrived in South Africa with money to invest, he had to fill in a form. One of the questions was: “What religion are you?”

He wrote down “atheist.” Connie Mulder took exception to this, and Fritz had to leave South Africa. But before that, he decided to do one more thing. We would go to church one Sunday morning, a tiny church in Kloof Street, opposite the Jan van Riebeeck Primary School, next to the petrol station.

We were all dressed up and arrived in the yellow Volkswagen Kombi. When we opened the doors, the press was there. Cameras were flashing and followed us into the church. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. It was Fritz’s plan to pressure Mulder to change his mind.

We were on the front pages on Monday morning. Mulder didn’t change his mind. Fritz had to sell 𝐂𝐚𝐟𝐞́ 𝐖𝐢𝐞𝐧 and say goodbye to us. He went across the border to what was then called Rhodesia and invited my mother over for a holiday. There he proposed to her and offered her, and me, a new life in Austria or anywhere else in Africa, or the world for that matter.

My mother was too fond of South Africa. Although she loved Fritz dearly, she said no. Fritz left heartbroken and returned to Austria. So, it was goodbye to that dream, to Fritz, 𝐂𝐚𝐟𝐞́ 𝐖𝐢𝐞𝐧, and that love story.

A few years later, she visited my granny in Lutzville, where she grew up. She met an old school friend there, and a few months later, she married him. Why? I don’t know. I moved in with my dad and his wife, only seeing my mother during school holidays.

She was stuck on a grape farm in the middle of nowhere. He started isolating her from her friends. He became abusive. He hit her. She turned into a lonely alcoholic. Over the years, she deteriorated so much that she died at fifty-two from throat cancer.

All of this (indirectly) because Connie Mulder chased the love of her life out of South Africa for being an atheist. So, excuse me when I burst into tears looking at this photo of him with his happy two children.

Connie Mulder “stole” my mother’s life because he was a so-called Christian. Never mind that, think of how many lives were shattered because of the apartheid regime he was part of. I feel ill when I look at that photo. Ill. Happy death day, Connie.