South Africa

By Scott MacLeod/Johannesburg

In the ranks of South Africa's antiapartheid struggle, Walter Sisulu is second only to his fellow prisoner and best friend, Nelson Mandela. A quarter- century ago, Sisulu and several other underground leaders of the African National Congress were captured on a farm in the Johannesburg suburb of Rivonia. Along with Mandela, they were sentenced to life imprisonment after being convicted in the Rivonia trial on charges of conspiracy to overthrow the government.

Rumors swirled for years that Pretoria was about to free the Rivonia prisoners, but many seasons of hard labor in the limestone quarries on Robben Island taught Sisulu, now 77, not to expect too much. During a visit to Cape Town's Pollsmoor Prison last Tuesday, his wife Albertina asked Sisulu what he thought about renewed speculation that his freedom was imminent. "No," he scoffed. "Let's just wait and see."

The waiting ended later that day. President F.W. de Klerk ordered the release of Sisulu and seven others, including all the remaining Rivonia prisoners except Mandela, as soon as "the necessary formalities" could be arranged. There was a mixture of joy and sadness when Mrs. Sisulu later visited the 71-year-old Mandela in his stucco bungalow at the Victor Verster prison farm. As the 8 p.m. television news announced De Klerk's decision, Mandela embraced Mrs. Sisulu. "We want to take you with us right now," she told him. "Yes," Mandela replied. "I want to go home."

Threatened by the possibility of additional Western economic sanctions, De Klerk appeared to be acting swiftly on his campaign pledge to lead the country into a new era through negotiations with the country's disenfranchised blacks. After allowing Mandela a pre-release reunion with his fellow Rivonia prisoners, the government permitted him to receive Mrs. Sisulu along with three other leaders of the antigovernment coalition known as the Mass Democratic Movement. Later the government lifted a 20-month-old order that barred Mrs. Sisulu from political activities. Also, De Klerk was the host for three hours of what he described as "talks about talks" with three M.D.M.-affiliated antiapartheid campaigners, all of them rare visitors to Pretoria's Union Buildings, the seat of white rule: Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu; the Rev. Allan Boesak, president of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches; and the Rev. Frank Chikane, general secretary of the South African Council of Churches.

Nonetheless, the two sides are still far apart on such basic issues as the pace of change and who will speak for the black majority. The clergymen handed De Klerk a 13-point agenda for reform demanding that the government lift the state of emergency and free the hundreds of remaining political prisoners, and then within six months abolish apartheid laws and begin negotiations on a new South African constitution with the A.N.C. "If we were to get that kind of commitment," Tutu said, "we would be ready to say to our friends, 'Put your sanctions programs on hold.' "

But De Klerk complained that he and the clergymen were often "talking past each other" and that his guests had continued to question the government's good faith. He stresse that the government would not abandon its trademark caution and ruled out discussing a comprehensive settlement solely with any one opposition group. "No government can adhere to a specific time schedule," he said, adding that reaction to Step A "will determine when Step B can be taken."

In releasing the eight prisoners, De Klerk said they could have their freedom without restrictions. Most of them, including Sisulu, the former secretary-general of the A.N.C., now intend to apply for South African passports so that they can travel to A.N.C. headquarters in Lusaka, Zambia, for consultations with exiled leaders. But if their freedom stirs political unrest, De Klerk strongly suggested, that alone could be enough to postpone further steps -- presumably including Mandela's release and any role he might play in negotiations over South Africa's future.