Prisoners in their own homes

Detained, bombed and restricted – but Joyce Mabudafhasi remains as firm as always

As the doors of South Africa’s prisons open to release the detainees, other doors bang shut. Most detainees — and many others who are fighting for peace and justice in the land — are slapped with restriction orders that make them prisoners in their own homes. The restricted people are not allowed out of their front doors from sunset until sunrise. Some have to stay indoors for even longer— in some cases, up to 20 hours out of every 24.

Family and friends become prison guards — making sure that their loved ones go to the police station every day to report.

Those with restrictions cannot work where they choose. They cannot attend meetings or any other political gatherings. They aren’t allowed out of the “magisterial district” that they are restricted to.

Many cannot speak to the newspapers.

Almost 1000 people are restricted at this time. Joyce Mabudafhasi is one of the people who has been restricted. Her story — and the others mentioned in this article — highlights the hard- ships of people who the government has cruelly chosen to silence in this way.

AS FIRM AS ALWAYS
Joyce Mabudafhasi is no stranger to the violence of apartheid. She was detained for the first time in 1976. Since then, she has been detained time and again. She has been beaten at protest meetings and badly injured in a grenade attack on her house. But through it all, Joyce has remained firm. She is as committed to the struggle as she has always been.

The daughter of a nurse and a church minister, Joyce was born in a village called Shiluvane near Tzaneen in the Northern Transvaal in 1943. After training to become a teacher, she got married.

When the family moved to Mankweng near Pietersburg, Joyce got a job in the library of the University of the North (Turfloop). She was the first black woman to be employed at the university.

After the Northern Transvaal UDF was launched in 1985, Joyce was elected General Secretary. Joyce’s work with the UDF meant that she had to travel all over the Northern Transvaal helping to organise people in this part of the country.

At the same time, Joyce was a member of other anti-apartheid organisations. As a member of the Detainees Support Committee (DESCOM), she helped the families of detained people. With the National Education Crisis Committee (NECC), she worked to solve the problems in the schools. And as an organiser for the Federation of Transvaal Women (FEDTRAW), she fought for women’s rights.

All the while, Joyce was very active in university politics at Turfloop. Those were very busy times for Joyce but she was full of energy and committment.

Restricted activists,  Devyet Monakedi and Elleck Nchabeleng, hitching the long way to report to the police station in Schoonoord

“NOT THE DYING TYPE”
Joyce’s work made her a target. In April 1985, she was detained and questioned by the police three times in one day after taking part in a picket in the conservative town of Pietersburg. The picket was to protest against PW Botha’s visit to the Zionist Christian Church (ZCC) at Boyne outside Pietersburg and to call for the release of all political prisoners.

Three months later, Joyce was at a meeting in a church when the police attacked. She was so badly injured that she had to take three months off work. Later the same year, there was a big consumer boycott in the Northern Transvaal. Joyce was accused of organising the boycott and was detained again, together with her friend, Joyce Mashamba.

After she was released, she began to get some very unwelcome visits — from the police. They came to search her house almost every week. Even the family’s Christmas gatherings were disturbed by that well-known knock on the door.

In April 1986, as the family lay sleeping, a hand grenade was thrown into Joyce’s house. Joyce was seriously injured and was rushed to hospital.

Even as she lay in a hospital bed, the police continued to visit her. But Joyce was still her old self. She told the police that she was “not the dying type” and that they did not scare her. Instead, they made her more angry and more determined to continue with her work.

The grenade attack was the start of many operations for Joyce. Doctors had to remove the shrapnel and glass from her body, and even from her eyes. This time, Joyce was off work for another six months. The day before she was going to start work again, she was detained under the emergency regulations.

ALONE IN A CELL
Joyce’s detention started with five months alone in a cell at Pietersburg police station. Then she was taken to Nylstroom Prison where she again met her old friend, Joyce Mashamba. After a year, they were both transferred to Pietersburg Prison.

At the prison, Joyce found herself in good company — her friends Joyce Mashamba, Priscilla Mokaba and Maris-Stella Mabitje, who also worked at Turfloop, were also there.

On New Year’s Eve of 1988, the women decided enough was enough — they were sick and tired of being detained without trial and of being cut off from their families and community. They decided to go on a hunger strike.

The women were taken from the prison and separated, and Joyce was sent all alone to Louis Trichardt Prison, where she continued her hunger strike. Joyce lost 10 kilograms in three weeks and her kidneys began to fail. But she refused to eat until she was finally released at the end of January — with restrictions.

When Joyce arrived home for the first time in two and a half years, she found a cold and lonely house. Joyce’s four children were staying in other parts of the country and Joyce’s restrictions did not allow her to travel to see them.

Joyce’s restrictions also prevent her from being with more than ten people at one time. She must report at the police station twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. She cannot leave her home between 6pm and 6am. She cannot leave the magisterial district of Mankweng without written permission from the Minister of Law and Order.

Joyce cannot take part in the activities of many organisations or go to any meetings. And she is not allowed to enter any educational institution — which means that she cannot go back to her job at Turfloop.

UNDER HOUSE ARREST
We wanted to ask Joyce about her life under these cruel restrictions. But we could not — Joyce is not allowed to talk to the press. So we spoke to some of her friends instead.

Maris-Stella said: “If Joyce wants to go shopping or anything else, she has to apply in writing 14 days before. It is the same thing if she has to go to Johannesburg to see her lawyers or doctors.

Baby Amandia with her restricted mother Lorraine Mokgosi. Amandia has never seen her father, activist Stanza Bopape, who is “missing”

“Because Joyce cannot work, she has no money. Sometimes, a friend will give her a bag of mielie-meal or another friend will give her R20. Out of this, she must try to keep the home running as well as look after her sick mother. And as a mother herself, it is painful for Joyce that she is not able to support her children.”

But perhaps the most frightening thing for Joyce is being under house arrest at night. “Joyce worries all the time that there may be another bomb attack on the house,” says Joyce’s mother, who suffered a stroke when Joyce was in detention. “And I worry that Joyce will forget to report or that she will not come back. Even if s’he goes to the shop, I think maybe they have taken her away again.”

Joyce’s mother has good reason to worry about the safety of her daughter. There have already been attacks on people under restrictions. Patrick Stali, a youth activist, was attacked in Uitenhage, but escaped alive. Others were not so lucky. Activist Chris Ntuli was murdered in Natal as he was hiking to the police station to report.

Joyce lives with this fear every day — but she knows she is not the only one. Her friends, Maris-Stella, Priscilla Mokaba and Joyce Mashamba, have also been restricted. Joyce Mashamba has been given permission to live in Johannesburg with her husband. This is the first time since 1976 that they have been able to live together.

Maris-Stella suffers from ill-health and has to get permission to go to medical specialists in Johannesburg. She received no medical care while indetention. Priscilla Mokaba has been restricted perhaps for no other reason than because she is the mother of Peter Mokaba — president of the South African Youth Congress (SAYCO).

FRIEND OR ENEMY?
Elleck Nchabeleng, the son of murdered Northern Transvaal UDF president, Peter Nchabeleng, and Joyce Mabudafhasi’s nephew, is also restricted.

Restricted Raymond Suttner

Every day, Elleck must travel 54 km each way from his village of Apel in Sekhukhuneland to report to the nearest police station in Schoonoord. He has no transport or job, so every day he hitch-hikes. Even when he can afford a taxi, it costs R10 a day and there are very few taxis in the village. When he hitch-hikes, he has no idea whether the people who stop for him on the road will be friends or enemies. Elleck lives in fear for his life. “The idea of history repeating itself is very frightening for the whole family,” says Elleck. “My father was murdered by the Lebowa police in 1986, at the very same police station in Schoonoord where I have to go every day. In fact, this happened on the very same night that my aunt Joyce Mabudafhasi’s house was bombed.

“Even if there was employment in this rural area, I could not have a job because of the time it takes me to go to the police station every day.”

If Elleck wants to go to Pietersburg or Johannesburg to apply for a job, he must phone the police there. Often, the phones do not work in the village and he has to wait for days to get through on the telephone to ask for permission.

Restricted but smiling – Priscilla Mokaba

THE MANY OTHERS
Elleck Nchabeleng’s friend and comrade, Dewet Manakedi, a member of the Sekhukhuneland Youth Organisation and of DESCOM, is also restricted. Dewet has to report to the same police station as Elleck in Schoonoord, 35 kilometres from his home.

Dewet worries about being attacked by vigilantes — in 1986, vigilantes burnt his family’s home to the ground. A few months ago, his parents moved to Sebokeng in the Vaal Triangle, but because of his restriction orders, Dewet cannot live with them.

Godfrey Moleko, who lives near Potgietersrus, has to report to the nearest police station, 65 km away, twice a day. This would cost him R420 per week in taxi fare. So Godfrey has had to leave his family and move to a village closer to the police station, so that he can report on time. Rapu Molekane is a SAYCO executive member. Since his release from detention, Rapu has also been restricted. He is underhouse arrest from 2 pm until 7am the next day. During the time that he is allowed to go out, he must report to the police station.

Rapu lives in a four-roomed house with his wife and nine family members. His wife, Patience, says: “We worry about any attack that might be made on our house — like when our house was petrol bombed in 1985. Any sound like a car or a knock sends the whole family into a panic.”

Octavius Magunda is a Tembisa Youth Congress member. Octavius is only allowed out for four hours a day, between 10am and 2pm. He has to report to the police station twice during that time.

Lorraine Mokgosi, a member of the Southern Transvaal Youth Congress and women’s activist, is the fiancee of ‘missing’ activist Stanza Bopape. Lorraine has been forced to move from house to house, because some of the houses where she has been staying have been attacked by vigilantes. And now she may be charged for breaking her restrictions for taking her baby to a traditional healer without permission.

The restricted general secretary of the South African Youth Congress (SAYCO) Rapu Molekane and his wife, Patience

These are just some of the stories of just some of the restricted people. Every person who has been served with a restriction order — like Thabo Makunyane, Raymond Suttner, Cassel Mathale, Joubert Tshabalala, Louis Mnguni, Zwelakhe Sisulu, Amon Msane, Albert Tleane, Archie Gumede, Chris Ngcobo, Eric Molobi, Albertina Sisulu, Ignatius Jacobs, Donsie Khumalo, Mike Seloane, Sandy Lebese, Blessing Mphela — to name a few — have their own story of pain and hardship.

Through restrictions, the government has tried to silence these brave and committed people. Perhaps it believes that by doing this, the people’s desire for a free and democratic South Africa will go away. But history will surely prove them wrong. The people will not forget about the people under restrictions — or the ideals they are fighting for.

NEW WORDS
picket — when a group of people stand together outside a place and protest about something, or try to stop other people from doing something, it is called a picket
institution — institutions are big organisations or places, like the church, universities, schools and banks
the press — newspapers and magazines are called the press, and the journalists who write for them are called members of the press
medical specialists — doctors who are experts in one kind of medicine, for example the liver or the heart, are called medical specialists

Stop racist sport!

An Interview with Krish Naidoo, General Secretary of the National Sports Congress (NSC)

IN 1960, South Africa took part in the Olympic Games for the last time. Soon afterwards, the African countries got together and made a resolution calling for an international boycott of South African sports. The Resolution was adopted. Since then, any tours to South Africa have been rebel tours.

This year, Mike Gatting and his British cricket team have come here to play cricket. Everywhere the cricketers go, they meet with thousands of people telling them to go home. In restaurants and hotels, the staff have downed tools and refused to serve the rebels. And on the playing fields, the applause of the few spectators is drowned out by the steady hum of freedom songs from those outside the stadium gates.

Nconde Balfour, chairperson of the NSC, announces the Anti-Cricket Tour Campaign at a press conference in January this year

Learn and Teach spoke to Krish Naidoo, the General Secretary of the National Sports Congress (NSC), the organisation that has spearheaded the Anti-Cricket Tour Campaign.

Learn and Teach: Could you please give us some background to the National Sports Congress (NSC). How and when did it start?

Krish Naidoo, General Secretary of the NSC

Krish Naidoo: The UDF began to be concerned with sports and culture in 1985. In the same year, it campaigned against the New Zealand All Blacks rugby tour. The UDF made it clear to the team they couldn’t play in a country where apartheid is felt in each and every aspect of life, even sport. The tour was cancelled.

In 1986, the UDF established its Sports Desk, with the aim of working with UDF affiliates. In April 1988, we decided to form a broader sports organisation, called the National Sports Congress. Today, we have both regional and national structures and our membership has been open to all local sports clubs since December last year.

Learn and Teach: What are the NSC’s aims?

Krish Naidoo: Our policy is based on three legs. The first one is unity — we believe that in a post-apartheid South Africa there will be only one sports movement. The second leg is the development of sport — in Africa, too little attention is given to sports. We are trying to develop sports people for a post-apartheid South Africa.

The last leg is preparation — we are preparing our sports people to play a meaningful role in the new non-racial democratic society we are building.

As part of our programme of action we have organised Soccer Unity talks. They are going well and we hope that by the year 1992 we will have one soccer federation. We are also involved in unity talks in sports such as tennis and table tennis.

A kitskonstabel on guard outside the change rooms of the English cricketers

Learn and Teach: About Mike Gatting’s English Cricket tour— could you please talk about the campaign against it.

Krish Naidoo: Last year we met with the South African Cricket Union (SACU) and told them to forget about the English Cricket tour. We said they should instead solve the problems in sports in South Africa, such as the division in sport along racial lines. SACU refused to cancel the tour.

We then sent representatives of the UDF and COSATU to meet with the English cricketers. The cricketers still said they would not cancel. It was then that we decided to form the Anti-Cricket Tour Campaign. We have organised protest demonstrations against the tour like those that have taken place at Jan Smuts airport and Bloemfontein.

Learn and Teach: What are the aims of the campaign?

Krish Naidoo: Simply to stop the tour. But we have also decided to use this anti-tour campaign to educate our people about the sports struggle. At the same time, the campaign has shown us how much support we have. We hope that this will be the last rebel tour in this country.

Learn and Teach: What do you say to those whites who say that it is their democratic right to invite and watch Gatting and the English Cricket team?

Krish Naidoo: That is a mad understanding of democracy! They are not genuine with themselves because if they were truly democratic, they would do what the majority of the people in this country and the world are doing — that is, to reject the tour.

Learn and Teach: What gains have been made so far in the anti-tour campaign?

Krish Naidoo: We have had the chance to explain to our people about the sports struggle. We have made links with other sports organisations inside and outside South Africa. And we have had the chance to lay the basis for a mass sports movement in the future. Most importantly, we have educated and organised our people against apartheid sports.

Learn and Teach: Mike Gatting and his fellows have been called “rebels” and “mercenaries”. Do you agree with these descriptions?

Krish Naidoo: Yes! Mike Gatting and his English cricketers are breaking the laws of the world sports movement. We are not the founders of those laws — the international community is. So Gatting and his fellows are rebelling against the world.

Hotel workers at the Sandton Sun in Johannesburg protest against Mike Gatting’s rebel tour

Learn and Teach: Some time ago on TV we saw some black people in Bloemfontein protesting in favour of the tour. Who are these people?

Krish Naidoo: Those were school children who were transported from Bophuthatswana by SACU. They were not from Kimberley. We have learnt that they were paid to come and protest in favour of the tour. It was sort of a Rent-a-protester business. It makes a mockery of SACU and its leader AN Bacher, because people are asking why they used black children. This proves true that “SACU is riding to fame on the backs of blacks.”

Learn and Teach: Why has Mike Gatting’s tour been targeted? Other sports people who have broken the boycott, like the golfers at the Sun City “Million Dollar Tournament” and the recent American athletics team, did not experience the same protest actions as the cricket tour.

Krish Naidoo: We are still a new organisation, and we are doing it slowly but surely. We are still educating our people. We are planning more meetings to educate our people about other sports.

Learn and Teach: What is the NSC’s relationship to the South African Council of Sports (SACOS) and to the South African Non-Racial Olympics Committee (SANROC)?

Krish Naidoo: We have a working relationship with SANROC, although we do not have formal links. SANROC has helped us a great deal during this Anti-Cricket Tour Campaign. Among other things, we have used their offices in Britain to launch our campaign there against this tour.

Our relationship with SACOS is not easy to explain. It is too early to talk of unity between the two organisations, but what I can say is that we have a very good relationship with some of SACOS’ sporting codes, especially cricket and rugby. Some of the officials and members of these codes are also NSC Interim Executive Committee members. We have discussed the question of unity with SACOS several times and we hope that SACOS will in future see itself as one of those forces that are fighting for unity in this country.

Learn and Teach: What is the NSC’s position on sporting contacts with other nations or sports people from other nations?

Krish Naidoo: The International Campaign Against Apartheid Sport (ICAAS) says that no nation or sports people from other countries should have contact with South Africa until apartheid is completely destroyed. We are part of that world community.

The hot sun didn’t stop this comrade from protesting against the rebel tour

Learn and Teach: Are there any exceptions to the NSC’s policy? In other words, are there any situations where the NSC would support sporting contact with other countries?

Krish Naidoo: The only exception is when we encourage people to go to other countries for training only. But those sports people must come back and share their skills with others. This is part of our 1990 programme of action.

Learn and Teach: What is the NSC’s opinion of SACU’s township cricket coaching clinics? Do you see this as a sincere attempt to promote non-racial sport, or just an attempt to fool the world community?

Krish Naidoo: I have said that development is part of our programme. But our people have problems with SACU’s programme because they were not properly consulted by SACU. We learnt that they only consulted the DET, an apartheid structure that our people do not support.

In townships like Atteridgeville in Pretoria, people are organising against SACU’s cricket programme. The NSC is also planning to replace SACU’s pro­grammes with our democratic ones.

Learn and Teach: Under what conditions will the sports boycott be lifted?

Krish Naidoo: For the sports boycott to be lifted, the South African sports people have to get their house in order. They have to be united and fight against apartheid. All of them — black and white — have the serious task of getting together and solving the problems of sponsorships and apartheid in sports.

We are quite confident that within two years we will have addressed these problems. We hope to see our sports people marching hand in hand with the masses of our people towards a non-racial democratic country. Then we shall be saying that conditions are ripe for the sports boycott to be lifted!

NEW WORDS
objectives — aims
mercenaries — people who are only interested in money
an attempt — when you make an attempt to do something, you try to do it
make a mockery of something — make something look stupid
address a problem — discuss a problem and try to solve it

Preparing ourselves for freedom

Comrade Albie Sachs

Throughout our country, and throughout the whole world, the winds of change are blowing strong. Many of our old ideas are being swept away and new ideas are taking their place.

In this article, Albie Sachs — a member of the ANC’s Legal Department, gives his ideas about culture. Some of us may be surprised by the things he says. They are quite different to many of our old ideas about culture and the struggle. In fact, when Comrade Albie first gave these ideas to an ANC meeting in Lusaka recently, there were many raised eyebrows! He wants to challenge us so that we will question our old ideas openly and unselfishly.

The article is long, so we have divided it into two parts. Here is the first part. You will be able to read the second part in the next issue of Learn and Teach.

We have changed Comrade Albie’s words quite a lot to make them easier for us to read. We hope that we have kept the spirit of his thoughts alive.

PART 1

We all know where South Africa is, but we do not yet know what it is. Ours is the lucky generation that will make this discovery — if we open our eyes wide enough. The problem for us is to have enough imagination to see what riches there are in the united South Africa that we have done so much to build.

For many years we have had a political programme for the future — the Freedom Charter. More recently, the ANC released the Constitutional Guidelines which gave us a basic guide to a constitution for a free and equal society. But do we have a similar kind of thinking for art and culture in the new South Africa? Do we really understand the new country and the new people that is struggling to give birth to itself? Or are our minds still trapped in the ghettoes of apartheid?

In order to help us give new energy to our thinking about culture, I want to make a few suggestions which some comrades might find shocking.

‘BANNED!’
The first suggestion I make is that our members should be banned from saying that culture is a weapon of struggle. I suggest a period of, say, five years. I make this suggestion even though I am fully aware that the ANC is totally against censorship and for free speech.

I have been arguing for many years that art is a weapon of struggle. But now it seems to me that this statement doesn’t mean anything and in fact it is wrong and may even be harmful.

In the first place, it makes our art poorer. Instead of getting real criticism, we get solidarity criticism. People do not feel free to criticise the work of our artists because it would be wrong to criticise a weapon of struggle. Therefore our artists are not pushed to improve the quality of their work. We accept that they are politically correct and so we do not criticise their work fully and honestly. The more fists and spears and guns, the better! We limit ourselves so much in our work that we no longer consider what is funny, or strange or really tragic in the world. We pretend that life is clear cut — good and bad, black and white, beautiful and ugly. The only conflict that we show is between the old and the new, as if there is only bad in the past and only good in the future.

THE GOOD AND THE BAD

If one of us wrote a story about Natal, the main person in the story would not be a member of the UDF or COSATU but a member of Inkatha. Yes, Inkatha. He or she would be opposed to change — a reactionary — but at the same time would feel the oppression of apartheid. The person would be thrown this way and that way by the conflict of emotions. When we read the story we would see all the struggles, pain and joy that a person experiences in the struggle for a new South Africa.

But instead, in our poems, in our paintings and in our theatre plays, we line up all the good people on one side and the bad ones on the other side. Sometimes we allow people from the one side to pass to the other. But we never show that there can be bad things in the good people or, even more difficult, good things in the bad people. We can tell who the good people are because they are always handsome and they know how to recite sections of the Freedom Charter or Strategy and Tactics.

A real weapon of struggle is a straightforward thing. A gun is a gun is a gun. There is no question about it. It fires in only one direction. If it fired in lots of different directions it would be useless. But art and culture have a different kind of power. Art and culture can look in many different directions at once to show us things which are hidden, the many different things of life which are not clear cut at all. That is why we cannot say that art is a weapon in the same way that a gun is a weapon.

AND WHAT ABOUT LOVE?
And what about love? We have published so many poems and stories and articles in magazines but you can count those that talk about love on the fingers of one hand. Can it be that when we join the ANC we do not make love any more? When the comrades go to bed, do they discuss the role of the white working class? Surely even the comrades whose work in the struggle means that they do not have the possibility of enjoying a love life now, must remember their past loves and dream of the loves they will have in the future.

What are we fighting for if we are not fighting for the right to enjoy all the fruits of human life — including love, and fun and tenderness and the beauty of the world? The apartheid rulers would really like us to believe that because apartheid is ugly, the whole world must be ugly as well.

ANC members are full of fun and romanticism and dreams. We enjoy and wonder at the beauties of nature and the marvels of human creation.

But if you look at our art and our writing, you would think we are living in the greyest and darkest of all worlds, completely imprisoned by apartheid. The apartheid rulers seem to haunt all our paintings, stories, poems and songs like ghosts. Everything we paint or draw or write contains the oppressors. Nothing is about us and our new way of thinking and our new way of feeling. We do not express the new culture that we are building.

Miriam Makeba – “music of hope”

A COP-FREE WORLD
Listen, in contrast, to the music of Hugh Masekela, of Abdullah Ibrahim, of Jonas Gwangwa, of Miriam Makeba. Their music is full of life and human warmth and beauty. Their music tells of a cop-free world. The new and growing spirit of our people sings clearly through them. And yet if you look at our poems or books or paintings or woodcuts, all you can see is darkness.

No one ever told Hugh or Abdullah to write their music in this way or that. No one told them that they must be progressive or committed. No one told them that they must be funny or gay. No one told them to use a strong beat so that their music could be full of hope.

Their music has all these things not because they are following the rules of progressive culture but because their music comes from inside themselves, from their own person­alities and their own experiences. It comes from the people’s traditions and from the sounds of everyday life around them. Their music moves us because it tells us something lovely and lively about ourselves. Not because the words are about how to win a strike or how to blow up a petrol dump. It pushes apartheid away, it climbs above apartheid to a place much higher, a place free of apartheid.

Our writers and painters could do the same kind of thing. They could also break away from the pain and seriousness of apartheid. They could stop trying to follow the rules of anti-apartheid culture that people (including myself, Albie Sachs) have been forcing them to follow for so many years.

Dumile, perhaps the greatest of our painters, was once asked why he did not draw scenes like the one that was taking place in front of him. This was a scene of a long line of men being marched under arrest for not having their passes in order. At that moment, a hearse drove by and the men stood still and raised their hats. “That’s what I want to draw,” he said.

Hugh Masekela – “his music pushes Apartheid away”

A STYLE OF OUR OWN
The narrow view of culture that we have had for so long has been damaging not only to culture but also to the struggle itself. Culture is not something separate from the struggle. It is not just something we can use from time to time to mobilise and unite the people, or to prove to the world that we are civilised. Culture is us, it is who we are, how we see ourselves and the vision we have of the world. When we make the culture of liberation, we make ourselves, and re-make ourselves.

The culture of liberation is not just a question of the discipline of our organisation and the relationships between the members of the organisation. All organisations have these things. But our movement has developed a style of its own, a way of doing things and of expressing itself, a particular ANC personality.

And this ANC personality is very rich. It includes African tradition, church tradition, revolutionary socialist tradition, liberal tradition, all the languages and ways and styles of all the many communities in our country. We have black consciousness, some red consciousness (some people would call it pink consciousness these days), even green consciousness (long before the Greens existed, we had green in our flag, representing the land).

Now, because our members have been spread all over the world, we also include the cultures of all humanity. Our comrades speak Swahili and Arabic and Spanish and Portuguese arid Russian and Swedish and French and German and Chinese. Not because of Bantu Education, but through ANC Education. We are even learning Japanese.

WE SING WHEN WE STRUGGLE
Our culture, the ANC culture, is not simply a collection of a lot of separate ethnic cultures lined up side by side, or mixed together in certain quantities, like the ingredients of a cake. It has a real and living character of its own. When we sing our anthem, a religious song, with our fists raised up, we are expressing the relationship that we have built together. We sing when we struggle and we struggle when we sing. This is perhaps the greatest cultural achievement that the ANC has made. We have made all South Africans, from very different backgrounds, feel comfortable in our ranks.

This does not mean that all differences and tensions disappear when you join the organisation. We bring with us our own particular way of seeing the world, our jealousies and our fixed ideas. But the goals and the comradeship of the struggle we have created allow us to deal with these differences. We have had debates about such things as whether to allow non-Africans onto the National Executive Committee, whether there should be corporal punishment at the Solomon Mahlangu College, and whether married women should do high kicks on stage. Today the question of women’s liberation is finally forcing itself into our thoughts and our actions, a very serious and important cultural change.

Culture is at the very centre of our movement. It is not something which we just bring out and put on the stage on ceremonial occasions and fund-raising events, or something which we use to entertain us at our meetings. If it was so, we would have no personality at other times. No, happily this is not the case. Culture is us, a.id we are people, not things waiting to be put into motion from time to time.

You can read the second part of Albie Sach’s paper in the next issue of Learn and Teach. If you would like to share your own thoughts on culture with other Learn and Teach readers, please write to us and we will try to print some of your letters.

NEW WORDS culture — art, music, poetry
censorship — control over what people say or write
conflict — struggle
reactionary — conservative, against change, clinging to the old ways
tenderness — gentleness, loving warmth
romanticism — ideas of love
consciousness — thinking and feeling
tensions — disagreements
National Executive Committee (NEC) — the highest decision making body in the ANC
Solomon Mahlangu College — the
ANC school in Tanzania
women’s liberation — the struggle of women for freedom from oppression and for equality with men

The ghost of Delmas

Thabiso Ratsomo, accused No. 22 in the Delmas Treason Trial

The final chapter of the Delmas Treason trial — the longest political trial in the history of South Africa —« came to an end in December 1989 when five of the accused were released from Robben island prison, in this article Thabiso Ratsomo, one of the Delmas 22, shares some thoughts and memories of the trial with us.

It is 15 months now since I was found not guilty and discharged in the Delmas Treason trial. Even though many months have passed, it is not easy to forget the 442 days I spent as one of the accused in the trial.

Before I share my thoughts with you, I want to say that the story of the Delmas Trial is just one of many stories that can be told by people who have been on trial in one of apartheid’s courts.

Many thousands of freedom-loving South Africans have suffered because of their ideals. Many have been sent to jail and many have died. We know who some of these people are, but there are many others whose names have never ever been published in the news­papers. Only when the full history of the struggle is written will we know the sacrifices that our people have made in the struggle for liberation.

DETENTION AND TRIAL
In April 1985 I was detained in my room at Rhodes University. Some weeks later, on 11 June, I appeared with 21 other comrades in a packed courtroom at the Magistrate’s court in Pretoria. We were charged with treason, terrorism, subversion, murder and furthering the aims of the ANC.

In court an army of black policemen in “riot control” uniform used force to separate us from our relatives and supporters who we had not seen for many months.

Exactly seven months after our first appearance in court, we pleaded not guilty in front of Judge Van Dijkhorst and his two assessors, Mr. Krugel and Dr. Joubert in the small farming town of Delmas, 70 kilometres east of Johannesburg. The trial that followed came to be known as the “Delmas Treason Trial”.

From the start of the trial, we were aware that this was a political case and that we had to conduct our defence on that basis. We knew that it was not only us 22 on trial but our organisations and all people who stood for freedom and democracy in our country as well.

Throughout the trial we were conscious that a war of ideas was being fought. On the one hand were those ideas that defended apartheid, oppression and racism. On the other hand were those which called for non-racialism, equality, freedom and democracy for all the people of South Africa. The courtroom was the battleground.

THE UDF BLAMED
The state’s claim was that the executive committees of the UDF and its member organisations had an unlawful secret agreement — a con­spiracy — with the ANC to overthrow the government by violent means.

In the Vaal area, the Vaal Civic Associ­ation (VCA) — a member organisation of the UDF — was blamed for the violence that swept the area in 1984. Most of the 22 accused, including myself, came from the Vaal and were members of the VCA.

When the Lekoa (Vaal) Town Council increased the rent and service charges in August 1984, the VCA called protest meetings. On 3 September, the VCA led the residents on a protest march to the council offices. But the marchers never reached the offices. The police shot at them — without giving any warning. After this, violence swept the area. Within days, it spread across the whole country.

The UDF and its member organisations were blamed for the ‘unrest’ in which councillors, policemen and government property were attacked. The state alleged that the UDF’s criticisms of government policy was the cause of this violence.

The documents used by the state to prove its case were the UDF Declaration, minutes of the UDF regional and national executive committee meetings, and videos and tape recordings of mass meetings of the UDF and its member organisations such as the VCA.

We were questioned at length about why the UDF had ANC leaders such as Nelson Mandela and Walter Sisulu as its patrons. The state also asked why many UDF executive committee mem­bers were people who were in jail for ANC or Umkhonto we Sizwe activities.

A SIMPLE ANSWER
Our answer to the charges against us was a simple one. The UDF was a coming together of many non-violent organisations and was formed in order to oppose the New Constitution and the Black Local Authorities. We were a legal organisation and we operated openly.

We said the UDF recognised the important role played by the ANC and its leaders in the struggle. So when the UDF was formed it saw fit to make these leaders its patrons.

August 1987: advocates, attorneys, accused and families keeping the bond strong

We were lucky to have a powerful and committed defense team. Even though the trial was long and called for a lot of work, nothing was too much for them. They worked until late at night, and often our attorneys had to go to the townships to find our comrades and to get information.

During the trial, I developed a great admiration for advocates Arthur Chaskalson SC, George Bizos SC, Karel Tip, Gilbert Marcus and Zac Yacoob for their patience and dedication. We got to know each more closely and as a result a strong bond between us and the lawyers developed. In many ways this good relationship made the defence strong.

We were not impressed at all with the state advocates. We felt that their arguments were often emotional and called for sympathy from the judge. I must say without any fear that they, were no match for the most junior of our defence team members.

However, Judge Van Dijkhorst did not find it difficult to accept some of those emotional arguments. Soon, we began to ask ourselves if Judge Van Dijkhorst was taking sides in this case. He seemed to favour the state. Seventeen months later we started to believe that we may have been right.

DISMISSING THE ASSESSOR
On 9 March 1987 one of the accused, Petrus Mokoena, was asked by the prosecutor about the UDFs Million Signature Campaign. This campaign was launched in 1984 to protest against the Tricameral parliament and the Black Local Authorities. During lunch time Dr Joubert told the judge that he also signed the petition.

On the morning of 10 March the judge shocked us all — he dismissed Joubert. The judge said that because Joubert signed the petition, he would not be able to decide fairly if we were guilty or not.

We challenged the judge. Our lawyers brought three applications as a result of the dismissal. They argued that the judge used the law incorrectly to dismiss Joubert and that he did so without asking us our opinion.

We said both the judge and Krugel were biased against us and that they seemed to favour the state. Krugel was a member of the Afrikaner Broeder-bond. This organisation was known to have influenced past policies of the government. We said Krugel’s judgement could not be fair to us.

We asked that the case be stopped. Judge Van Dijkhorst was not impressed by our arguments and we lost the applications. This was a heavy blow to us. But we were able to fight on, mainly because we gave each other strength and support. We were also organised.

WITH ONE STEP
I remember comrade “Terror” Lekota — UDF publicity secretary — saying to us at the beginning of the trial: “Comrades, we must organise our­selves so that we can move together with one step.”

We chose a cell chairman, a treasurer, a timekeeper and a committee for dealing with prison officials at Modderbee Prison where we were kept. We also arranged ourselves into groups of three for cleaning the cell and for preparing meals.

During our free time we played games. Soccer was the favourite day sport, but in the evenings we played monopoly, cards, dominoes and snooker. It still amazes me that the 22 of us could share one ‘cell’ — a small hospital ward at Modderbee prison — with very few problems.

The 22 accused in the courtyard at Delmas in April 1986

There was never a day that went by without us thinking what would happen to our families and loved ones if we got the death penalty or a long sentence. We worried about who would support them. Often, we wished that the trial would end for once and for all so that we could know where we stood. But time seemed to drag and the tensions and anxieties increased.

THE ‘DELMAS BUS’
These were difficult times. But the support we got from our people and organisations such as the South African Council of Churches (SACC) helped us more than I can say. We knew that our organisations and our people were behind us and they would never dump us at the time when we needed them most.

I will never forget the grannies and grandfathers who came to give us support every Tuesday and Thursday.

They never once missed the Delmas Bus in the three years we were on trial. Most were pensioners from the Anglican’s Cyprian church in Sharpeville — the church of Reverend Moselane, one of the accused.

They never got tired of waking up in the early hours of the morning and making it through the cold winter wind. They were a real source of inspiration and in the absence of relatives — who were often at work or simply could not attend the trial regularly — they filled the gap.

WEDDING OF THE YEAR
There were also some happy moments during the trial. Like the wedding of the year!’

Bride Makgauta and bridegroom Lazarus More are congratulated by Archbishop Tutu and Terry Waite. The priest next to them was Rev. Moselane

None of us will forget the afternoon of 20 June 1986 when one of the trialists, Lazarus More, got married in the same courtroom we appeared in at Delmas. “Terror” and Oupa Hlomuka were the two best men! I remember that the night before the wedding “Terror” and Oupa spent hours shaving their.faces. They looked much younger the following day!

Many people came to Delmas for this special event. The late Bishop Simeon Nkoane of the Anglican Church conducted the service, helped by Reverend Moselane.

Bishop Tutu came to the wedding together with Mr. Terry Waite who was sent to South Africa by the head of the Anglican Church in Britain. (Mr. Waite disappeared while in Beirut, Lebanon in January 1987 and has not been seen since. He went there to try and promote peace in the area).

The wedding was a joyous occasion, but we couldn’t help wondering what life would be like for the new bride if Lazarus was given a long sentence. Again, we wished for a speedy end to the trial.

Three former accused – Simon Vilakazi, Gcina Malindi and Thabiso – sharing a joke outside the courtroom at Delmas in 1987

BURYING THE GHOST
Finally, after three long years — on 18 November 1988— I was found not guilty and discharged. In all, 11 of us were found not guilty. The other 11 comrades were found guilty and sentenced.

In December 1988 Popo Molefe, United Democratic Front (UDF) national general secretary, Patrick “Terror” Lekota, UDF publicity secretary, Moss Chikane, former UDF Transvaal regional secretary and Tom Manthata, former secretary of the Soweto Civic Associa­tion, were sentenced to prison for periods of between six and twelve years.

Gcina Malindi, a youth and civic leader in the Vaal and six other members of the VCA were found guilty of terrorism. All were given five years each. Gcina went to jail with the other four. The other six got suspended sentences.

One year later, in December 1989, the Appeal Court buried the Delmas trial ghost when five judges threw out all the convictions and sentences and released the five comrades. The Court found that the judge had dismissed Joubert without first giving us an opportunity to express our opinion. Judge Van Dijkhorst may not have been impressed by our lawyers’ arguments, but the Appeal Court judges were!

In the judgement, Chief Justice Corbett said: “In general… the judge in a criminal court should not make rulings or give direction in regard to the trial affecting the interests of the parties without giving them the opportunity to be heard.”

Moss Chikane, “Terror” Lekota and Tom Manthata – still in prison clothes – are welcomed home by UDF President Albertina Sisulu (centre) and relatives and friends

The five comrades came home on 15 December after spending one year on Robben Island. When they got off the plane at Jan Smuts airport, they were greeted by hundreds of supporters who gave them a big welcome home. The case was finally over!

Despite the hardship suffered in those long years, I have no regrets. I am proud to have been put on trial for the noble ideals of freedom and democracy. I believe that the work of the UDF and its member organisations has contributed to the changes in South Africa that we see now. Today I feel more confident than ever before that we will see “FREEDOM IN OUR LIFETIME!”

NEW WORDS
ideal — an idea that seems so perfect that you try to achieve it
conscious — aware
patrons — an important person honoured by an organisation
assessor — when there is a chance of the death sentence, two assessors must help the judge listen to the case
attorney — a lawyer who cannot defend an accused person in the Supreme Court
advocate — a lawyer who can defend accused people in court. Judges are chosen from among the advocates

On 16th June 1976

Students said, “No Afrikaans”

On the 16th June ten years ago people went home at the end of the day, as always. But when they turned on their radios and opened their newspapers, they knew South Africa would never be the same again. The extra late edition of the World newspaper said,

4 DEAD, 11 HURT AS KIDS RIOT

At least four people are said to be dead and 14 hurt in Soweto today. Police clashed with some 10 000 school kids who marched through the streets of the township. They were protesting against being taught some subjects in Afrikaans.
One of the dead is a student, the other is an old man, who died from a stray bullet.
A policeman was also said to be dead and a white motorist was stabbed to death. His car was stoned and set on fire. In Phefeni a police car was stoned and set on fire. But the driver escaped unhurt.
Among the people hurt were two students – one was shot in the leg and the other has a bullet wound in the back.
Police and school kids clashed near Belle Higher Primary School, Orlando West.
About 300 policemen fired hundreds of rounds into the air as they tried to stop the riots. Kids threw stones at the police.
Police also shot at more than 1000 pupils from Naledi west of Soweto. The Naledi pupils were marching to join the other rioting pupils.
Many of the 50 police cars which raced to the scene of the riot had their windscreens broken by the angry students.

This story was written by Sophie Tema and the photographs were taken by Sam Nzima. These photographs were used all over the world.

Sam Nzima talks about what they saw. “We were covering the great march by students from Naledi High to Morris Isaacson High, then to Orlando West High. It was just an ordinary, peaceful march. Then the police arrived.

“They told the children to stop. The students started singing ‘Nkosi Sikelel’ iAfrika’. We were in the middle of the crowd.

Students after a meeting at Regina Mundi

Then a white policeman ordered his men to fire, and all hell broke loose. Many students surrounded the police, others ran to a nearby hill and started throwing stones at the police.

“We ran to our car. During the shooting I saw a young man and a young woman running towards the car. They were carrying a student who was bleeding badly. I took a lot of pictures.

“They asked for help. We rushed him in our car to a clinic, but the student was already dead.

“Then we went on to the newspaper office. We were shaking. But we had to write the story and print the pictures.”

The death of the student, Hector Petersen, shocked South Africa and the world. But it started a new chapter in the history of South Africa. The unrest didn’t stop on June 16th.
Between June 1976 and February 1977, 700 people died. 4 000 people were hurt. 6 000 people were arrested. And people think that 4 000 students left South Africa to join the African National Congress.

STUDENTS TALK

PETRUS – A FORM 2 STUDENT AT MADIBANE HIGH IN 1976
“A week before 16th June, the principal told us that we had to learn in Afrikaans. We felt angry because we did not understand Afrikaans well. How could we learn in Afrikaans? We had meetings at school. Then we decided to come together with other schools. All the students agreed – no Afrikaans.

“On the 15th June we went from school to school, telling students to join the march the next day. On the 16th we never went to classes. We went to meet the Morris Isaacson students. But they had to pass the Meadowlands Police Station and we had to pass the Orlando Police Station.

“We never met. The police stopped the students from ‘deep Soweto’. The Diepkloof students split up in Orlando East. Taxi drivers told us that the police had stopped the other students.

“The next day we went to school, but we had no lessons. We got a message from the other Diepkloof schools to meet them. So we marched again.Some people wanted to attack bottle stores on the way. Students felt that liquor was killing our people.

“But then some students said we must meet with the students from other schools. Together we must decide what to attack. So we marched to Orlando. On the way we stoned WRAB offices. The police came. Some people ran away but others were caught.

“I was caught. I can’t tell you what I felt. I did not know what the police would do to us. They put us into a land rover and took us to a bigger van. That van smelt of liquor. They packed us like sardines. We had to lie down, then they made others lie on top of us. Some people were wounded.

“At about midday they took us to the Orlando Police Station. In the charge office, they took our names and addresses. Most people gave wrong names. Then they said we must li~ flat. They walked on top of us for about 2 – 3 hours.

“Then they took us to another room. They hit us with batons. When people wanted to go to the toilet, they were told to wee into their hands and not to mess the floor.

“Luckily the following morning some policemen felt sorry for the little kids who were with us. These kids were betweeen 9 and 14 years old. The police told us to take them home. When we got out, some people could not see and others could walk properly. We could not help those who were badly hurt to get home.

“My parents were very happy to see me. I went back to school but I was a new person. Before I was a child but after my arrest, I felt like an old person. I began to know what was happening around the country. And I knew what I wanted and what I did not want as a human being.”

PHINDI MAVUSO – 1976 VICTIM
“In 1976, I was 14 years old. I was doing Form 2 at Kwa-Mahlobo in Zone 10, Meadowlands.

“One day during the riots, I heard one of my friends was detained. Soon after that I heard that he had died in prison.His name was Jacob Mashabane. His funeral was on the 24th of October.

“My friends and I wanted to go to the funeral. People at the funeral were singing freedom songs. When we reached the graveyard at Doornkop, the police were waiting outside. One policeman spoke in Afrikaans. I did not understand what he said. I think he said we must go home. But people went on with their singing.

Running from some Teargas

“The policemen fired teargas. We started running in all directions. Then the policemen started shooting. As I was running I felt a pain in my right leg. But I did not stop until I found a place to hide under some trees.

“When I opened my eyes, I was in hospital. The doctors said they had to cut off my leg. I stayed in hospital for six months. Then I was well enough to go home.

“I could not find a place in a school. When they heard I was shot at a funeral, they all said their schools were full. But I wrote my matric – I did three subjects in 1979 and three subjects in 1980. Now I am working at the Self Help Association for Paraplegics (SHAP).

“It is very difficult to say if South Africa has changed in the last ten years. I think that people, the youth, have lost their patience. It seems they get angrier everyday. For me the last ten years have been difficult. And I cannot say what is going to happen in the future, really.

ANTOINETTE THANDI PIETERSON – SISTER OF HECTOR PIETERSON
“In 1976 I was a Form 2 student at Thesele Secondary School in White City. On 16th June, I was at Orlando West with the other students. When the shooting started, I hid in the trees.

“At about 11o’clock I came out of the trees and saw, Hector, my younger brother. Hector was twelve at this time. He was at Itheteng Higher Primary School. It was the first time I saw him that day.

“I called him over and told him to stay with me. Soon I saw he was no longer standing where I told him to stand. Three minutes later I heard a shot. I ducked down together with other people.

“I saw about four or five boys carrying a person. I recognised Hector’s shoes. I pushed people aside, telling them that the person was my brother. A boy in overalls took Hector and ran to some nearby cars. I followed him.

“The boy in overalls told the driver of one of the cars that Hector was finished. But the woman there said we must take Hector to the clinic. So I got in the car with Hector and the boy in overalls.

“At Phefeni clinic, two doctors looked at Hector. Then they called me to them. They told me Hector was dead. They asked for the name and address of my family.

“I stayed at the clinic for two hours. Then two teachers came to fetch me. They said they would take me home. When I got home only my grandmother was there. They told her about Hector’s death. Then I went with my brother, Vuse to Meadowlands where we found my mother. We told her what happened to Hector.

“Later the police told me that Hector killed one of their dogs.”

A TEACHER TALKS
CURTIS NKONDO – then principal of Lamula Jubilee Junior Secondary School.
“I knew about the march a week beforeJune 16th.” said Curtis. “Teachers were very angry about Afrikaans. Many of them did not know Afrikaans well enough to use it to teach. And we felt that Afrikaans would make studying even more difficult for the students.

“On the 16th June, I went to the school board offices in Dube. I passed the students on the way. They were already in Orlando. Then I went over a bridge. On the other side of the bridge I saw the police.

“When I heard the news that night, I could not believe that the police shot at the kids.

“I wanted to stop teaching before the march – but I did not want to leave my students. The inspectors were worrying me because we refused to use Afrikaans at our school.

“So I did not care if I was fired. Lamula became the place where the SSRC – the Soweto Students Representative Council- met. I spoke to them about Afrikaans and Bantu education. I once went to a student meeting in the veld near Naledi. No-one knew that I was a principal – they would have been very surprised if they did know.

“It was very difficult to teach for the rest of 1976. Some days the children came, some days there were no children. Sometimes the police came to the school. Many of our students were detained and many left the country.

“The teachers did not know what to do. They started to leave teaching, one by one. When we saw this happening,” says Curtis, “we knew we must do something. So in August 1977 we had a big teachers meeting at the Methodist Church in White City.

The meeting made a list of demands:
No Afrikaans
Bantu education out
No more school committees
Better wages and working conditions

“The teachers chose ‘The Committee of Six’. I was one of them. We spoke to lawyers. We wanted to know what would happen if all the teachers walked out.

“The teachers met again a month later. Over five hundred teachers decided to leave.”

The police, waiting

Learn and Teach asked the UDF and AZAPO how they think South Africa has changed in the last ten years.

MURPHY MOROBE – PUBLICITY SECRETARY FOR THE UNITED DEMOCRATIC FRONT (UDF)
“In 19761 was a member of the South African Students Movement and the Soweto Students Representative Council (SSRC) – the people who led the schools in 1976 and 1977. At that time we believed that we must free the minds of black people.

“We thought we were the first people to fight the government. We did not know about the Defiance Campaign and the school boycotts in the 1950’s. We wanted ‘freedom quickly, overnight. But we learnt many things in 1976.

“We learnt that we must be united to be strong. And to be united, people must join organisations. In those days students were the leaders. When we wanted people to stay away from work, we gave out pamphlets. We hoped people would read the pamphlets and listen to them.

“We made one big mistake. We never spoke to the people in the hostels. This led to very bad fights between the township people and the hostel people. But now we try to work with everyone.

“Today there are many strong trade unions in Cosatu. Now the students are no longer the leaders – the parents are! But I think the students of 1976 helped to make the unions strong.

“The government has changed. The army and the police are stronger than in 1976. But the Nationalist Party is having problems. The whites are fighting amongst themselves. The groups fighting apartheid are stronger than before. And the UDF is now one of the strongest groups.

“I believe it does not help to say when we will be free. We must work now. But we do not think that this government. will last. People must come together to end apartheid soon. People must join organisations and help to make their organisations strong.”

SATHS COOPER – CHAIRPERSON OF AZAPO
“When the students started to boycott classes in Soweto, I was in court, on trial. The government charged many people who belonged to the South African Students’ Organisation. We did not know what was happening.

“Then one day some students came to court. They told us what they were doing in Soweto. Later the court said we were guilty and we went to Robben Island.

“I think that 1976 brought people together again. People were worried about their children. So they joined groups like the (B.RA.) Black Parents Association. People like Nthato Motlana, Winnie Mandela and Zephania Mothuping all worked together. But they all had different political ideas. “In 1976 ‘black consciousness’ organisations were strong. They all believed that black people must fight the government on their own. But in September 1977, our leader, Steve Biko was killed.

“And in October the government banned all the ‘black consciousness’ organisations like the South African Students’ Organisation, the Black People’s Convention. If our organisations were not banned, we would be stronger today.

“I also think that the young people then, knew what they were doing. They used to talk to people before a stay-away – not like today. They did not make people eat soap powder or drink oil. There were thugs in 1976. But they used to loot shops – they did not worry people like today.

“Today people are killing each other in the name of the struggle. We will lose what we have won if people do not stop fighting. People say, ‘If people are going to fight like this when you take over, then we cannot support you.’ We must stop these killings and work together.’

Worried parents came together

We want to thank everyone who helped us with this story, especially ‘The Sowetan’ and ‘The Indicator’.

It’s now over three years since the beginning of… the Delmas treason trial

The 22 men who were first charged in the Delmas Treason Trial. Three have been released.

The ‘Palace of Justice’ in Pretoria has a special place in the history of South Africa. It was in this building that Nelson Mandela and his comrades were sentenced to life in prison for
plotting to overthrow the government of this country.

Now, 24 years later, 19 men are on trial in the very same courtroom. They too are being charged with plotting to overthrow the government. If they are found guilty, they too could be sentenced to life in prison — or maybe even death.

The trial in Pretoria is known as the ‘Delmas Treason Trial’ — because it was in the small eastern Transvaal town of Delmas that the trial began nearly three years ago. The trial, one of the longest in this country’s history, was moved to Pretoria in August last year.

When the trial began in June 1985, 22 men stood in the dock. But in November 1986 the judge said three of the 22 were innocent and he set them free.

“WE ARE NOT GUILTY!”

The other 19 are still facing charges of treason, subversion, murder, terrorism, and furthering the aims of the African National Congress and the South African Communist Party.

Most of those on trial are members of the United Democratic Front and its member organisations. One is a member of the Azanian People’s Organization, and one is a member of Azanian Youth Unity.

Most of the accused come from townships in the Vaal Triangle. Many of them were members of the Vaal Civic Association (VCA).

The accused have told the court that the VCA was started in October 1983 to fight for better living conditions for the people of Sharpeville, Sebokeng, Boipatong, Evaton and Bophelong. It was one of the 17 organisations banned by the government in February this year.

When the Lekoa (Vaal) Town council increased the rent and service charges in August 1984, the VCA called protest meetings. On 3 September, it led the residents on a march to the council offices. But the marchers never reached the offices. The police shot at them. People say they gave no warning.

The 19 accused are being charged for the troubles that began in the Vaal on 3 September. They are also being charged for the ‘unrest’ that afterwards spread through other parts of the country.

At the beginning of the trial, all the accused pleaded not guilty to the charges. They said that it was true that they fought against apartheid and injustice. But they say that at all times they used peaceful methods and that their organisations worked legally and openly.

THREE YEARS OF HARDSHIP

Police in the Vaal in September 1984.

All the accused have suffered greatly in the past three years. The three UDF leaders, Popo Molefe, Patrick ‘Terror’ Lekota and Moses ‘Moss’ Chikane are still in jail. They have been behind bars since April 1985. They have asked for bail five times — but each time the judge has refused.

Molefe was arrested a month after his wife gave birth to a daughter. Lekota and Chikane’s wives gave birth after their husbands were already charged.

The other 16 are out on bail — but they are not allowed to go home. Most of them live by themselves in Johannesburg. Most days they travel to court in Pretoria — and when they do not have to go to court, they must report to a police station twice a day.

The families of the accused have also suffered. Besides living without husbands and sons, they have also lost the breadwinners in their families.

But all the hardships of the past three years have not broken the spirit of the19 accused. They greet all the visitors who come to the trial with smiles and warm handshakes. They even crack a joke or two. They are very grateful when people come to the trial to show their support.

And support is what the 19 need. They are fighting a mighty battle to prove that they are innocent.

“A HOSTILE JUDGE”

Many policemen, councillors and informers from all over the country have given evidence against the accused.The prosecution has used minutes from meetings and thousands of other documents and pamphlets in its case.

In March 1987 the judge, Justice van Dijkhorst, ‘fired ‘one of the assessors in the case. (When there is a chance of the death sentence, two assessors must help the judge listen to the case). The judge dismissed the assessor, Dr Willem Joubert, after finding out that he had supported the UDF Million Signature Campaign in 1983.

The lawyers for the accused said the judge had made a mistake in law when he dismissed Joubert.They said he should stop the case.

The accused also said that the judge and the other assessor, Mr Krugel, were ‘hostile’ towards them. They felt that when the judge and Krugel questioned witnesses, they often helped the prosecution.

The accused also said that they were unhappy with the assessor, Krugel. He was a member of the Broederbond, a powerful Afrikaner organisation that believes in apartheid. How could they get a fair trial from such a man, they asked.

The accused said the judge and the assessor should step down. After four days of argument, the judge decided that he and Krugel would not step down — and that the trial should go on.

“THE TRIAL IS IMPORTANT”

The brave Helen Joseph shares the joy with the three who were released.

The 19 know that it is not only their own innocence that they must prove. Another 911 people are also named in the charge sheet. Some of these are well known people like Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Rev Frank Chikane and Dr Beyers Naude. There are also 50 youth, women, worker and community organisations named.

If the 19 accused are found guilty of treason, then all the other people and organisations named may also be charged with treason.

As one of the accused says: “What happens in this trial is important for everybody in the struggle. It is a challenge to those peaceful methods that people have been using to unite people against apartheid.”

NO STONE UNTURNED

At the trial Learn and Teach asked many of the accused the same question: “The trial has taken so long and you have all suffered very much. Don’t you wish the trial was over already?”

“Yes,” they answered. “We want to know what our future is.”

But at the same time, they said they want to leave no stone unturned to show that they are not guilty — no matter how long it takes.

Such is the courage of the accused in the Delmas Treason Trial. It is a great pity that such people are not free to help build a better country for all who live in it.

By keeping these men stuck in a courtroom for so long, the government is not only silencing the voice of the accused. It is silencing the voice of the people. It is making all those who want to see the end of apartheid look like criminals!

THE 19 MEN ON TRIAL

POPO SIMON MOLEFE (36) is the national general secretary of the United Democratic Front (UDF).
PATRICK ‘TERROR’ LEKOTA (39) is the national publicity secretary of the UDF.
MOSES (MOSS) MABOKELA CHIKANE (39) was the UDF’s Transvaal secretary and he worked at the Community Resource and Information Centre in Johannesburg.
PATRICK MABUYA BALEKA (28) was an insurance salesman and a member of Azanian Youth Unity (Azanyu).
REVEREND TEBOGO GEOFFREY MOSELANE (41) is an Anglican priest from Sharpeville.
OUPA JOHN HLOMUKA (34) was an insurance salesman and a member of the Azanian People’s Organisation.
GCINUMUZI PETRUS MALINDI (28) of Sebokeng was the leader of the Evaton Baptist Church’s Youth Committee.
MORAKE PETRUS MOKOENA (49) owns a cafe in Evaton called vWest End Restaurant’ and was secretary of the Evaton Ratepayers’ Association.
TSIETSI DAVID MPHUTHI (50) was a branch vice chairman of the VCA and sold wood and poultry for a living.
NAPHTALI MBUTI NKOPANE (42) worked for a furniture store in Vereeniging and was a branch chairman of the VCA.
TEBELLO EPHRAIM RAMAKGULA (37) is an electrician from Sebokeng and was a branch treasurer of the VCA.
BAVUMILE HERBERT VILAKAZI (32) worked for the Urban Training Project in the Vaal Triangle and was a member of the VCA executive.
SEKWATI JOHN MOKOENA (35) was secretary of the Boipatong Residents’ Committee.
SIMON TSEKO NKOLI (28) of Sebokeng worked for the Institute of Race Relations.
PELAMOTSE JERRY THLOPANE (29), a part time salesman from Sebokeng.
SERAME JACOB HLANYANE (39) is an electrician from Sebokeng and was a branch treasurer of the VCA.
THOMAS MADIKWE MANTHATA (48) was a field worker for the South African Council of Churches and a member of the Soweto Civic Association.
HLABENG SAM MATLOLE (63) worked for a dry cleaning factory and was a branch treasurer of the VCA.
THABISO ANDREW RATSOMO (30) of Sebokeng was studying journalism at Rhodes University where he was the president of the Black Students’ Movement. He was a treasurer of the VCA before he went to university.

NEW WORDS
palace — a big building or home — like a king’s house.
the accused — people who are charged in court
dock — where the accused sit in court
innocence — not guilty
grateful — happy and thankful
documents — important papers
informer — ‘impimpi’
prosecution — the people who try to prove you guilty in court
hostile — not friendly, not on your side