`THEY WERE PART OF US AND WE WERE PART OF THEM`

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‘THEY WERE PART OF US
AND WE WERE PART OF THEM’
- The ANC in Mozambique from 1976 to 1990 -
by
NADJA MANGHEZI
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Nadja Manghezi:
THEY WERE PART OF US AND WE WERE PART OF THEM
(The ANC in Mozambique from 1976 to 1990)
LIST OF CONTENT
Introduction and Acknowledgement
Prelude: A Strange Kind of Paradise
Chapter 1: Frelimo and the ANC (to 1975)
1 : Valhalla
2: Marriage between the ANC and Frelimo
3: Chiawelo
4: Fleeing into free Mozambique
5: The Young Women
Chapter 2: Fleeing Home. Coming Home (1976 – l980)
1: Homesick in an Independent Country
2: Other Newcomers
3: Rebirth
4: The Eduardo Mondlane University and the Centre of African Studies
5: From Collaborators to Fellow Countrymen
6: Organisation and Infrastructure in Place
Chapter 3: The Realities of War. ANC Operatives (1981 – 1984)
1: To get the weapon there (Ordnance)
2: The Underground under Ground (The Military)
3: Sasol and Voortrekkershoogte (Special Operations)
4: Internal House (The Political)
5: They don’t make the water but they make the water go into the houses (SACTU)
6: They called him a Scare-crow (Security and Intelligence)
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7: Malaria and Mental Suffering (Health)
Chapter 4: A Great Betrayal? The Nkomati Era (1984 – 1986)
1: The Apples of Vovo Botha
2: The Border
3: Swaziland
4: Informers – Askaris
5: Lovers
6: Boesak in Maputo
Chapter 5: A Renewal of Trust between Mozambique and the ANC. The Fall of
Apartheid (1986 – 1990)
1: The Death of Mabhida
2: The Death of Samora Machel and the Mini Nkomati
3: The Two Sewing Mistresses
4: The International Supporters
5: Apartheid’s last Convulsions
6: Home “sweet” Home
List of Names
Brief Bibliography
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Prelude
A Strange Kind of Paradise
The ANC calls them Pioneers, Frelimo calls them Continuadores. In the new South
Africa we talk about the Hopes of the Rainbow Nation. They are the future.
Some people had a rough childhood, exposed as they were to hunger and war, to hard
work and aids.
For the lucky ones childhood was the Paradise, the happiest part of their life, a protected
exuberant time full of life and fun never to come back.
We know from our own experience how often we romanticise our childhood. Our
memories have sifted the truth to protect us against too many bad experiences, and our
memories have adapted and moulded the truth so that we can talk to our children and
grandchildren of the big events that we were part of.
If the memories of our childhood do not constitute a factual truth, they do, however, show
the pattern of what formed us, the emotions they spurred in us, the ideals they deposited in
us, and led us to the choice of friends, of careers and of partners.
What was the life that the ANC pioneers who grew up in Maputo want to tell their
children and grandchildren about?
Ronnie Ntuli was 6 years old when he came to Maputo. His father Willie William was
head of Security. He lived in Maputo with his father and his mother Adelaide, and with an
older brother who later left for SOMAFCO in Tanzania. Ronnie stayed in Maputo until
June 1984 his father was transferred to Zimbabwe. He talks about his three communities:
The school community, all those International people. I had the Pioneer community
which was part of the ANC community. And then I had the bairro. All the little kids
that I grew up with in the street. Some of them hang around together. So each time
I have been back to Maputo I see them, have a drink, and some of the kids from
the International School as well that I was friends with, are still there. So there is
still that community. I feel... Maputo, I feel very much at home still.
Franny Rabkin was born in 1976 in Pollsmore Prison. She arrived in Mozambique in
1978, two years old, with her mother, Sue and her older brother, Joby. Her father, David,
had just started a 10 year sentence. She left Maputo in 1987 for Lusaka where she stayed
until she could go back to South Africa.
There was such a huge difference between the ANC in Maputo and the ANC in
other places, and I think one of the differences - it is just my own idea, I don’t know
how true it is ... in Maputo at the time, which was Maputo in those early years, they
had a sense of community that was quite astounding. This whole sense of them
building the society... it seemed in a way that didn’t happen in other African
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countries that had achieved their independence. I remember going up to almost
anyone in the street saying: I am hungry, and they would go: OK, here is a mango.
Or going up to people and saying” I am lost , I can’t find my Mum”, and they would
say: OK, where are you staying, and they would take you and you trusted
everyone. It was none of this: Don’t talk to strangers. It wasn’t like that.
Bram Naidoo was born in 1974 in South Africa. His father, Indres Naidoo left the
country when Bram was 18 months. After spending two years in London with his mother,
Saeeda, he arrived in 1979 in Maputo to join his father who had arrived a year earlier.
Bram, left Mozambique in December 1986 by then 12 years old and went to Lusaka
where he staid until he could go back to South Africa.
I felt so confident, walking around in the streets. I think it was because of the
society there. I grew up alone to a certain degree. I went to school in the morning.
And school was only half a day, and then I would roam around until seven, eight,
nine o’clock at night at the age of nine, ten, but I felt completely safe
.
At the early stage there was no anger between the Mozambican and ourselves.
They were part of us, and we were part of them.
And the three go on to describe the Maputo and the ANC they recall:
Ronnie: It was amazing the texture of the country that Samora built at the time. It
was very much: We were all together moving in one direction and with one
objective. I think that came through. I remember going to the Praza (da
Independência) where he used to do his talks, and just being amongst thousands
of Mozambicans, listening to Samora’s speeches for hours and hours. If I had to
do that today I would be out of there in ten minutes (laughter), but at the time you
just stood there, sun blazing, rain whatever, but also, I never felt that I was a
foreigner. You were really part of a community.
Bram: I remember all the May Day rallies. They were very inspirational to me no
matter how long they took. And every time Samora would sing and get up and start
singing, I was always enthusiastic. Having spoken to people recently, they had
different experiences. Mozambican people, who were older then. Some of them
seem to feel that they were threatened by being there or by not being there. I
assumed that every single person in Maputo was there, and every single person
was joyous and celebrating May Day. So for me, as a child, it was an amazing
experience.
Franny: The ANC in Mozambique took care of us. The food was sometimes really
bad. There was no milk, and there was no this, and you couldn’t flush the toilet, but
at the end of the day, you knew that you were fine, you would be looked after. You
were a priority as a child. The ANC kids in Mozambique were taken care of by all
the ANC adults.
Bram: Even people from the outside. When they shot down that unmanned spy
plane... we all scattered in all sorts of odd directions, we were all heading for our
little hole, the individual hole where we knew we would be safe. I remember Wolfie
Kodesh, he was just visiting from London, he was going bananas, worrying about
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us. We felt very cared for by everyone. You could appear everywhere. Bobby.
Farouk. Who ever.
Franny: Also Auntie Fatima looked after us. She cared about us. She never felt
that there was another or a bigger priority, even though there was such a much
bigger priority actually. You always felt that you were...
Ronnie: ...safe
Bram: ... looked after. Taken care of.
Everybody lived in separate places. When we talk about it there is a pleasure in recalling
all the names of the streets. Ronnie lived in Avenida Agostinho Neto corner Lenin
amongst a lot of Mozambicans. Bram and Franny lived in Avenida Sansao Muthemba in a
House called “Internal” close to the International School, and then their families moved to
different places, Frannie to Av. Julius Nyerere in a flat next to the Police Station, and
Bram to a house in Avenida Dar es Salaam. Separate, but with a clear feeling of belonging
together as ANC.
Ronnie: I don’t think that I will ever experience such a sense of community. It is a
pity that many people go through life without experiencing that. The other things I
remember were things like food... the supplies. There was the truck that was
covered. With vegetables. Then one would come with meat. Then one would come
with tinned stuff, and then the bus. You remember when we were pioneers: There
was a small car that used to come and pick all of us up and take us to school, and
then we lobbied.... I don’t remember who ... then somebody from the Women’s
Section in Lusaka came, and we said: Oh, we need a bus to go to school, and then
suddenly this huge thing...the creamy one came, and suddenly we had a car. And I
remember going to Triumfo ... All of us down there one day for Mpando
(distribution of second hand clothes). Big barrel. All these clothes from Sweden.
Franny: I didn’t know about shopping. I mean proper shopping. It was a big event:
“ Woo Mpando”. And when I told my friends (later in South Africa) about it, they
always go “Shame” (big laughter from everybody) “the poor thing”. And we thought
it was just “Vouw, New clothes !”.
A few of the children had experienced a year or two in an ordinary Mozambican primary
school. Both Bram and Ronnie were amongst these. But from 1978 all the ANC children
joined the International School and as indicated by Ronnie it was the responsibility of the
ANC to get them there and to fetch them again. They went as ordinary children, but their
ANC identity was very clearly felt:
Franny: There was one thing at the International School. It was some kind of
performance where all the different countries had a little piece. You go on stage in
your national dress and then you said: My name is what-ever, We are Italian, and
then you did the Italian dancing. The you would go off, and then the other countries
would come on. (laughs) I’ll never forget. These guys came on the stage in
something supposed to be skins, but it was plastic, cut up, like into a skirt. And
they go in: My name is so-and-so, I come from ANC.
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To me it made perfect sense. I linked my identity not with being a South African at
all. It was ANC, and that was right, and that was where we actually did come from,
even though there isn’t any country called ANC.
It was an amazing school. When I listen to my friends talking about the kind of
primary school they went to, I think we were very lucky at the International School.
It was actually very progressive. It was actually quite hippisch. We called our
principal by her first name, “Frieda”.
At this moment, twenty years later, the three of them burst out in singing: “We are the
children of the International School” and “Viva, viva Mozambique”. That school meant a
lot to them.
The children have been emphasising how safe they felt. How well they were looked after.
But the reality of them being part of the struggle, being targets of the Apartheid Regime
also showed its ugly side. Ronnie’s father was head of security and often came to inform
the families that to-night there might be an attack, take your children and go and sleep
somewhere else.
Ronnie: It is amazing, it is really amazing, how, as a child, you just completely
interpret things totally differently. We used to live in a house with guns all over the
place. As a nine year old I got taught how to dismantle an AK and put it back in
key. I got taught every day when we woke up, we would go to every single door,
check the door, but I knew those were my tasks. It was never explained in the
greater context. It was like a discipline that you followed. It was a routine that you
followed.
Like cleaning the teeth and washing the dishes.
Now when I look back at the routines that you did as a child, and I listen to how
other children grew up, it is completely abnormal... it is totally, totally abnormal.
That is why when I see TV broadcasts of children in war zones with a gun that big,
you look at it thinking: was that me? Was the situation that extreme or was it not? I
am sure those kids also don’t see it as completely, completely out of norm. It is
incredible.
I have come across a number of ANC children from Tanzania, Lusaka, other big
ANC centres. The one thing that we did... all of us used to get told all the time:
“Don’t talk”. “When you say things to people, you must be careful what you say,
how you say it”. And I look at a lot of people who have grown up now and I have
come across one or two who still have problems, just letting things out.
Bram: I feel very much the same way. It was all part of our life. I would every
morning at four o’clock wake up with my father and listen to the BBC. And all these
strange things that normal families don’t do, but I felt it was very much part of who
we were, what our “job descriptions” were. It is strange. I knew about all these
things, and these actions were always surrounding our life. Like with the ANC
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office bombing... with the Matola raids, we always knew we were in danger to a
certain degree, but I always felt completely safe.
Ronnie: Yes. That was incredible.
Franny agreed:
All these things were just as everyone has been saying. With us with the gun, I
remember very clearly, how my mother, how Suey, showed us this huge AK 47:
This is a gun. It kills people. You don’t touch it. You don’t look at it. You don’t play
with it. She was so obsessed about us playing with guns, because we had to learn,
that if these things are in the house, one way is to teach you how to do it, and the
other way is stay away from it.
But later she woke up to the realities of the dangers:
It was only really after my father got killed (1984) that I started getting stressed
about my mother. Because it brought home to me that it happens. It happens. It
was at the same time that things were heating up in Mozambique, we had to move
house and we had to walk a different way to school every day all these kinds of
things, because it was heating up.
Bram: Yes, that was an awful time
Franny: That post-Nkomati period was when things started getting hectic.
Franny’s brother Joby often suffered from asthma. Was that because of the stress of being
moved from house to house in the night whenever Ronnie’s father warned us that there
might be an attack?
Franny: Me and Joby essentially have very different personalities. Everything hit
Joby harder than me. I think because the biggest trauma for Joby happened before
I was born, when my daddy was arrested and Suey came out of jail, which I never
experienced, and he was very close to my dad as a baby, so it was always very
difficult for him. For me, he was just this hero that was in prison and who was
going to come out. I didn’t know him. But for Joby it was real, and he was also
older than me, so when Suey used to go into Swaziland, he used to get scared. He
really did. When he talks about it now, I realise... but my Dad also had asthma so I
don’t know whether it was hereditary. But I know that he took things a lot harder
than I did. Always.
And also, at some stage I wanted to be a spy, so for me all these things were like
training. Ooh.
Ronnie: It was your career. (laughter)
Franny went to visit her father in prison twice a year.
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I remember... It is weird it also blends into one thing... There was the routine when
we went to our Daddy. I was saying to Joby and Suey the other day.. they were
asking me why I don’t keep all my keys in one bundle ... and I would say: I don’t
like the way it sounds. It never occurred to me that there might be some kind of
connection and they both looked at me like: oh you are disturbed. (laughter) Some
deep unconscious thing that I don’t know about. And Suey reckons it was when I
was inside. I don’t remember being scared, but I remember... when you get into
the prison... there are these electronic doors, black.
Ronnie: What prison was it?
Franny: It was Pretoria Central. And you go down that long... well I don’t really
know how long, because I was little... it was the longest passage in the world. And
every time we get there, they take up this big bunch of keys, open the bars, walk
through. lock behind you .. next one, open, lock... next one...there were lots of
them before you got really where you were going to, and that walk used to scare
the hell out of me. Once I got inside to the room, and my dad was there and there
was that whole glass thing. I remember when we were really young, we had
contact visits, we used to go and sit on my dad’s lap and chat to him, and then I
can’t remember what happened, but in one of the other contact visits, children
were battered, and they stopped
Ronnie:
How
long
was
he
there?
Franny: Seven years. We used to fly, me and Joby to Joburg, and then our
grandparents would be there to meet us.
Children’s memories are strange. Franny tells how she was all amazed to see that Pretoria
was not just a prison. When she later returned to South Africa she saw that a whole city
had sprung up around the prison.
But what did the children actually understand of what was going on in the adult ANC
world.
My own children who were at the age of Franny and her brother Joby used to be surprised
that when we went on a shopping trip and they were sitting behind in the car and wanted
me to open my window, the window would only come down half. However much they
tried, the window would not go further.... Strangely enough, when we returned from
Swaziland the next day, there was no problem in lowering the window in its full length.
Only as adult did they realise that the doors of a car have got hidden compartments, and
when their mother left them in the camping place in the evening, she went to have it
emptied for its content.
As adults we had lots of code names for the work we were involved it. In my opinion
many ANC comrades were not too careful about their secrets but I actually thought I was
very discrete and very reliable in never giving away these code names, my own name
included. Big was my amazement when after a telephone call where somebody on the
other side wanted to talk to Tiko, my child immediately called: Mummy, somebody for
you on the phone.
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To my even bigger amazement I overheard a discussion between the children, which
clearly showed that they knew much more that I thought. They knew we were going from
Harbour (Mozambique) where we lived to Bay (Swaziland) the next weekend. And they
knew that the Island was Lesotho (I must admit I have never been very impressed with the
code words of the ANC, what else could Island mean?).
Franny: I remember. I think there was a stage, when I didn’t know about
Swaziland. I knew about Bay and Harbour. Like Bay, people came back with
chocolate, which was a good thing. (Laughter). Yes, we all knew where all those
places were. I don’t think even that there was ever a time that I didn’t know what
they were. I remember there was one stage where guns were delivered, and
Bobby on the phone saying you know, Franny, the umbrellas... the umbrellas,
those things that go bang-bang (laughter). And then we were joking about when
Ronnie (Kasril) would take a moustache to go with the plane. Because that was
the human side of it... it was all very serious... but there was this side to it also.
The ANC did not only feel responsible for the children and made them feel safe and part
of the community in the general sense. They organised the children into the Pioneers.
Every Saturday afternoon they met. One adult, a woman, was in charge of the sessions,
and others would then come in and help her doing the activities with the children.
Ronnie: I remember we used to go and rehearse at ... Auntie Tixie’s house... at
the back. In Sommershield. You remember also how the sessions used to be split
into two... it was like political education and then there were rehearsals, gum boot
dance. Auntie Agnes used to teach. She was the leader of the pioneers. So we
would learn internally and then we would go out and perform
What did they learn in the political education, these young children?
Again, the facts they tell are mixed with laughter and jokes. I, as a mother, remember the
children as being often quite bored when they sat a Saturday afternoon dumped in the
garden waiting for the “teacher” to turn up, but it certainly does not seem to be what their
memories tell them.
First of all and like with one mouth they start quoting the Freedom Charter.
We the people of South Africa can declare for all countries in the world that South
Africa belong to all black and white, and no government can....
And of course I just needed to ask them: What happened in 1912? and they would not
only answer that it was the Year that the ANC was formed but they would go on quoting
the whole string of years and dates that were meaningful in the struggle of the ANC. No
hesitation after twenty years!
Franny remembers being taught that the difference between the ANC and the PAC was
that the PAC wanted to call South Africa Azania. And that was wrong. And now, of
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course, she laughs at the depth of the analysis not knowing whether this was actually how
they were taught or whether it was her understanding of what they were taught.
Franny: There was quite a lot of indoctrination going on in the Pioneers. The
history that we learned about the struggle. When I came back to SA, I had such a
problem learning Afrikaans, because the way we had been taught, it was the
oppressive language, and now I had to pass it to get my matric exemption, and I
just couldn’t. I used to bunk lessons, and refused to go. Then I got to Cape Town
and I realised that most people speaking Afrikaans are actually black and I felt it is
the oppressor’s language in an ideological sense, but as a language as such, it
was used by people.
As Ronnie puts it, they have a million memories of what they did with the Pioneers when
it came to performances or participations.
Here are the ones they recall as their fondest:
Bram: The first time was at a Frelimo’s Party Congress... when we went to
Assembleia (the Parliament)... we were a group of us, young pioneers, and
Samora gave a speech at an Assembly, and we were sitting on the top balcony
where the visitors sit and ... Joby was doing gum boots, and then he screamed:
Viva Samora, or something like that and everyone looked up and saw the ANC
young pioneers and started clapping. It is one of those. It came out of the
blue...Inspired...
Franny: The one I remembered. Well, it was my moment really, the youngest
pioneer. We had those skirts, the yellow pleated skirts, and the white T-shirts
saying I am an ANC pioneer. Well I was the smallest, but I had one of the biggest
skirts. (laughter) We were on Inhaca Island. I don’t know what it was for. I can’t
remember. I think it was organised by Albie Sachs, and we did some dancing and
some things, and then they had the youngest ANC pioneer which was me and the
oldest ANC. A Veteran. It was a very old comrade. I can’t remember what his
name was. And we had to get up on stage, and I had to say AMANDLA and I am
left handed, so I always used to use my left fist, and I had to remember, I walked
around and I trained “right hand, right hand, right hand”, but then I said Amandla,
and Sue started crying, and I got flowers, a bouquet. I was so happy with myself.
They were all arranged nicely and in plastic, and I always used to see that on TV,
and I never thought I would get one myself.
But then some other baby was born, and I wasn’t the youngest any more. Shit….
And then we had East German pen palls at some stage, where we used to write to
each other, in English.
Ronnie: The thing I remember as a very exciting thing was whenever the Amandla
group (the cultural group of the ANC) came to town. That was such a celebration.
I remember there was a couple of pioneers that always used to go backstage and
watch the Amandla performance from the backstage. But we used to have our
performances also, which were for us grandiose, really big. Whenever Amandla
came to town, they would just drown everything. It was really incredible.
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Ronnie being the oldest remembers Auntie Tixie’s house in Sommershield as the Centre
of the Pioneers activities. The others mostly think of Auntie Fatima’s house. She did an
amazing job with the pioneers despite all her other responsibilities. And although, as they
say above, they always knew she would look after them and feel safe they were also a bit
afraid of her rigidity:
Franny: First of all she had a thing that children shouldn’t answer, and we were
brought up to engage, so if we said “why?” she would think we were disrespecting
her, when we actually weren’t disrespecting her. We were just asking “why?” And
when you are little and fat and cute like me, you can get away with it, which is what
basically happened. But with those who were older and should know better, she
used to take it as a cheek, so she always used to see them as insubordinate and
disrespecting her. So she didn’t like them very much. That was at least the
impression I got.
I remember when we went to FACIM, the trade fair. It was so exciting. There was
candy floss. I don’t know what Joby and Bram and your son Senga had done, but
Auntie Fatima told them to go away, you don’t belong to my troop any more. And
they went off and had a fantastic time. (laughter). And I was so worried about them
the whole day. And they had been chilling around with all those other kids and I
was so worried that now Auntie Fatima had thrown Joby and Bram and Senga
apart, just kicked them out, what if she doesn’t allow them ... I didn’t enjoy myself
at all... but they had a great time, and I was so annoyed. When I found them again,
are you OK (shouting worriedly)? They went Yee. And there was some ride that
she wouldn’t let us go on, because it was dangerous, and we all wanted, it was
some wheel or something like that, we were not allowed. But Bram and Joby and
Senga went on it over and over again.
The ANC kids were treated a bit like specials. When there was food being given to
the children, we used to get given separately, all the Mozambican children would
get given it together, so there were like all the Mozambican kids, and we were fed
from ... proper plates...
Bram: I had a horrible experience with her (Auntie Fatima). We went on a trip to
Sofia together. And I didn’t enjoy that trip at all. I ended up coming home without
shoes and hepatitis from Luanda. I spent three days lying on the couch of the ANC
office in Luanda with hepatitis, very sick... completely... I was just out. And there
she was that I was faking illness, which I really didn’t enjoy. (laughter) I think
...That was the biggest experience I had with her. But I had another experience. I
was very much part of the young pioneers and the community. Whenever we
organised, I was very much part of that. And I was very upset by the fact that I
wasn’t allowed to go to Samora Machel’s funeral. I was looking forward to be part
of it, to be part of the ANC group that was there, and we all had our mpando
clothes, and we had to look through it and find either blue or black pants. And my
grandmother found the most decent looking pants with a huge hole, so she had to
put a patch on it. So she made a patch which was my star-sign. On the morning
when we were all to be picked up, the car came, and I walked downstairs. Auntie
Fatima took one look at me, and decided that I can’t go, the star was too much. So
I went back there, dejected.
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Many
pioneer
children
got
the
chance
to
travel
abroad:
Ronnie: The other thing I remember was all the international trips of the pioneers.
I remember we went to Algeria for this International Children’s Conference. The
most amazing thing. And then I was supposed to go to the GDR. But I also
remember the real global split in politics. It was kind of going to GDR, USSR. It
was never UK and such . They were never of any significance at all. They were
never really there. As I grew up, the only thing I ever knew about the West, was
when you started learning about Ronald Reagan. I remember my name...
everybody used to call me “Ronald” when I was a pioneer, and I remember going
out saying: My name is Ronald anti-Reagan. (laughter)
But exile took its toll on ordinary family life. Bram’s parents split up, and he had to cope
with living with his father alone and with his grandmother who got another flat where he
and his mother lived until she left the country. He felt very upset at the time, but looking
back he now understands that it had to happen. It was part of life in Mozambique. And
although he felt very angry with his mother at the time, she taught him a lot about
feminism and about male oppression which he thinks will now make him a better
husband.
Bram: I was always very proud of my parents. Maybe I didn’t really understand
what they did, but occasionally my Dad used to take me to some of his meetings,
because his partner was not around. He would just take me, and I would walk
around with Soviet diplomats or whatever. And they would laugh with me, talk to
me. By being there I saw the way they looked at my Dad, and the kind of respect
they had for him although he came in his shorts and his tackies. I respected him
for who he was, and I was very proud of that..
Franny: I did an interview once with Gillian Slovo. I was doing a comparative study
between children of ANC and why some people felt bitter and some people didn’t.
The thing which emerged from this discussion that I had with her (about ANC kids
inside South Africa) was that they were looked down upon by everybody else, what
they were, and what they were expected to be, whereas for us... everything that
happened to me had happened to someone else. When my Dad was in prison,
Bram’s Dad had also been in prison, so it wasn’t like I felt different. So just the
situation they were in as white South Africans, when they were very isolated, and
they were treated like traitors because their parents were communists. For us: We
were Communists, and we were ANC...
Ronnie: And so was everyone else
Franny: And so was everyone else (laughter) And so were the Mozambicans. And
we were still fighting our struggle, so we were put to the front of the queue when
queuing. It was really like that. I can’t say that I have ever been bitter or angry with
my parents.
I am a bit upset over some things about the ANC, because I also see the ANC as
my extended family, and I expect a relationship like that. At the moment there is
14
this no tombstone at my father’s grave, and I think that this is the ANC’s job. And
there is a lot of people who are in the same condition, who don’t know where their
parents are buried, and there is no records of it. I would like to take my child, when
I have a child, there, to where my father is buried and say: This is you grandfather.
Franny’s father, David Rabkin got out of prison in 1984 and stayed in Maputo for some
years, where Franny finally got to know her father. He then left to undergo military
training in Angola, and was killed the same year.
Ronnie: I always say to people. If there is anything in my growth that I wish my
parents had done differently, it is nothing. I would not change a single bit of the
way they brought me up. And truly... them having the courage to come out of
South Africa, live within a community that complies with everything you need
forfeiting your own independence, just really for a bigger cause, that is incredible,
and in this age, not many people would do it.
Franny: I felt they were all a bit mad. I wonder what possessed them. What
possesses you just go to a new country with no money, two children, not knowing
where you were going to stay, what if you end up starving... It is brave.
Ronnie: It takes a special kind of person to do this, it does.
Franny: And a certain amount of “lunacy” (laughter).
When Bram sums up his attitude, the other two agree:
I think the important thing about the ANC in Maputo is that to a certain degree they
were honest about this idea that the Youth is our future. I really felt like that. I really
felt like the Future.
After 1990 a new life started. For many of the ANC comrades it was completely a new
experience. They had been provided for by the ANC, now they had to learn how to go
shopping, how to make a budget and how to plan your life. In the ANC you did not get
“employed”, in the ANC you got “deployed”, and suddenly you now had to make a living
and fend for yourself.
The coming back was a difficult story, at least for Bram and Franny.
Ronnie went to University abroad while his parents returned home, and when he came to
visit them during the holidays he made a point of getting socially absorbed into the South
African world, not the exiled one. When his education was finished he returned home
ready to go into business and build up his professional future in South Africa. His
relations to the family was somewhat eased by the fact that he had been able to meet with
them now and again in Swaziland plus the fact that he was already 6 when he left, so there
was already a bond, a memory of uncles and aunts. He still feels very much at home in
Maputo. He goes back there very often and hangs out with old friends.
15
Bram found it very difficult at first. He didn’t know South Africa at all. He knew its
history. He knew its policy. But the reality? He came back in 1992 and went to an all
Indian School and found it difficult to do his matric. He just couldn’t bring himself to do
that. He left the country again and went to Waterford Secondary School in Swaziland
where he met a lot of South Africans who were actually not politically involved who were
not politically involved. Here were white, black, Indian South Africans and there were
Mozambicans as well which made it much easier for him. He then went to Denmark
where his mother had settled but never felt part of the Danish society. Back again to South
Africa in 1997, he still didn’t feel like a South African, but little by little while doing his
studies at Cape Town University he slowly adapted. He has a lot of Mozambican friends,
so much that amongst the students at the University he was counted amongst the
Mozambicans. He also had Scandinavian friends, but particularly the Mozambicans to
whom he felt a certain bond.
He now travels a lot to Mozambique and has a Mozambican partner.
Franny was the one who had the hardest time. She was 16 when she came
back.Considered herself a Communist and arrived with a Che Guevara cap with a red star
on her head expecting people to shout “ANC has come back!" But people didn’t even
know what a red star and Che Guevara was. All that she had expected would happen did
not happen, and all that she didn’t expect to happen happened.
Franny: South Africa. It was like Boom. And I was completely traumatised. I didn’t
know what had hit me. What I couldn’t get over was the racism. Everyone. It was
completely unconscious. I remember my first day at Sacred Heart, the school I got
to when I got back. Looking around for the cool girls. In all my other schools there
was the cool girls and the neatly girls. And there wasn’t that. There were the black
girls and the white girls and the Indian girls and the coloured girls. But I didn’t
realise that there were these groups, because I had never looked at people like
that. And then the white girls instantly made friends with me, and for about a year I
could just not relate to them. I just thought I was mad. I was a freak, and I was
completely abnormal. Then I started making friends with blacks. I just felt more at
home with blacks. The first day of school in South Africa I was thirteen, and all
these girls sitting around discussing their diets. Some are on vegetable diets, some
are on weight lifts, some are whatever. I was just like: why are you wasting your
time on diets? There is boys. There is this. I really did not get there.
One of the first friends in SA was this black girl. She came to spend the night in my
house. And I walked her to the taxi rank. She had to catch a taxi going to Soweto.
She wouldn’t hug me goodbye, because she didn’t want to look as if she was
sucking up to a white person. And it was such a slap in my face.
I couldn’t understand why everybody just looked at people according to the colour
of their skin. All these subconscious assumptions that South Africans just do
naturally. They don’t think about it. Every day. Everything. On the smallest things.
You are black therefore this. You are white therefore that. You are Indian. The
Whites akways thought I was a sell-out.
16
Bram: That is the reason why I have a lot of foreign friends. There is none of this.
The very sad conclusion that Franny has come to is supported by the other two:
You start absorbing it. You find yourself saying things you would never have said
before. You wonder: Am I becoming a racist? To a certain extent to function in this
society you have to absorb it.
17
Chapter One
A Common Struggle: Frelimo and the ANC to 1975
___________________________________________________________________
Valhalla is the place in the Nordic Mythology where the gods enjoy their retirement. They
have fought bravely during a whole life and they now sit back and enjoy. They drink and
they eat. I have forgotten whether there are plenty of women also. There must be... who
otherwise should serve them! They have a pig, and each time you cut off a part, it grows
out again immediately. Each time they want to drink the Viking beer, the mjoed, it comes
in endless supplies.
Valhalla is also a place just outside Pretoria.
It is where Lennox Lagu, the first chief rep. of the ANC in Maputo now enjoys his
retirement. He too has fought bravely during a whole life and can sit back and enjoy.
His house is big and nice. His garden gives good possibilities for cultivation of vegetables
and has already some fruit trees. But so far, it is mostly a house with possibilities. It needs
redoing, painting, repairs.
Lennox, although he is still a General in the SANDF, is waiting for his pension. His
contribution to the struggle is immense. Let us hope he will soon be able to retire fully
into his South African Valhalla.
I remember Lennox’ wedding in 1977 in Maputo. His wife, Cecilia, is the niece of
Mariano Matsinha, a Frelimo freedom fighter whom Lennox had already met in the camps
in Tanzania and who was to become the Mozambican Minister of Security amongst many
other important tasks. It was a simple wedding. Everything had to be simple at that time,
and I remember with fondness how Lennox called my children to stand near to the bride
and the groom while they were cutting the cake.
When I was sitting with him in Valhalla trying to remind him of all these long passed
episodes of his life, I realised that I was jumping the gun.
I had to sit down quietly and just listen. It is always a big quality to be able to listen. But
in this particular situation it was more important than ever.
Lennox is simply the personification of the history of the ANC.
Most of what he told me was things I had read about, but this afternoon I was allowed
inside, and from behind the scene, I was taking part in the big drama called The History of
the Struggle.
Lennox is a small man in size, unassuming and I soon felt as if I had seen him, not 18
years ago but yesterday: His humour, his commitment and his down to earth explanation
of what had happened. I don’t recall having met his name in many books or papers, but
18
then again the ANC comrades have had so many names during the years, so maybe it was
not surprising. It was the first time I heard his real name: Johnson Mongameli Tshali or
the name that many of his friends use these days: Mjojo. He was known to be a man of
action, superb in battle and in organising his “soldiers”, a man who abstained from too
many words and too many political theories but who was there on the ground whenever
needed.
Lennox was born in 1938 in a rural area near Grahamstown. His father was a chicory
grower who moved away from the “reserves” going from farm to farm with his family to
where there was work. Lennox’ first schooling was in Alexandria. He did his primary
school staying with relatives in Port Elizabeth and continued to High School where he
finished his Matric in 1959.
Lennox: My parents and quite a lot of relatives were in the ANC particularly during
the time of the Defiance Campaign. The ANC was very powerful in those areas. As
a matter of fact I have no date of saying when I joined the Youth Movement of the
ANC. It was nearly a religious kind of thing. Your father and mother are there. Even
when we did our prayers we always started with “Nkosi Sikelele” and my father and
mother were card holders of the ANC. Naturally whenever there are meetings we
also go there and we used to be given some work to do, deliver pamphlets, but we
were not that conscious of being members. Those were the politics of home.
At high school he started understanding and participating seriously. He belonged to a
group under Govan Mbeki which burned down the bars that were being introduced in the
locations, attacked police station, learned how to make sand bombs and petrol bombs
which they threw against the offices of the bantustans. At this time Umkhonto we Sizwe
was formed. His group was very active in setting it up. Some of his close friends were
caught and later hanged in Pretoria. In 1962 he was told to leave the country. It was also
the year where in February the ANC was invited to take part in the Conference of the PanAfrican Freedom Movement for East, Central and Southern Africa (PAFMECSA) in
Addis Ababa, where Nelson Mandela participated, his only but most important meeting
abroad with the rest of Africa and its revolutionary leaders.
On his way abroad Lennox spent some time in Johannesburg where he met with various
groups of the underground. In his group under the leadership of Joe Modise was also
Eastern Cape commander, Andrew Masondo. The person driving them to the border was
Andrew Mlangeni, who in 1964 was to be sentenced in the Rivonia Trial and together
with Mandela served 26 years on Robben Island. Joe introduced them to the border police
as a football team which was to play in Francistown and they were easily allowed in
Lennox: despite the fact that not a single one of us had a pair of socks, or jersey
or whatever. Some of us didn’t even know the soccer itself, particularly us coming
from the Eastern Cape.
Here they met with a group led by Thabo Mbeki who were being deported back to
Bechuanaland after having been arrested in Rhodesia. Manto Mashabalala was part of this
group.
19
The next part of his description about how they eventually managed to reach Tanzania
sounds like one of these children board games where you move after throwing a dice, and
according to the text on the board you move forward or backwards or stop over trying to
be the first in GOAL
Through bush and sand road to Kasangula. The van is stuck in the sand: Wait one
turn.
You have seen the Zambezi River: Take an extra throw with the dice.
You meet up with Jimmy Hadebe who takes charge of you: Move five points
forward.
You cross the river on a pontoon and continue with bus: Jump to number 15.
The freedom party UNIP in Northern Rhodesia is very busy with its own
problems: Wait one turn.
You are happy and sing freedom songs, believing that you have reached a free
country: Jump three numbers.
You are stopped because you are wearing caps and overalls and are easily
recognizable as South Africans: Go back to start all of you. (Except Zola Skweyia,
who while the police got them out of the bus to question them, quickly picked up a
child from the mother’s arm, and pretended to be one of the crowds watching the
episode.)
You are locked up in Bechuanaland accused of being terrorists: Stay three turns.
After some time in the prison Lennox and his comrades get out. The "board game" goes
on. They have now learned a few lessons.
Joe Modise is waiting for you and tell you to start again.
Move to Zambia. Wait till UNIP has got time for you, and Dar has sent a letter of
recommendation. Advance five points.
No more money for bus fare. Stop one turn.
You get lost around the Malawian-Tanzanian border not far from the Frelimo
camp of Tunduru: Stop three turns.
One of the ANC nurses who was sent as voluntary helpers for Tanzania in 1962, is
in Mbeya and helps you out: go straight to goal, the ANC representation in Dar es
Salaam.
Lennox’ group which now consisted of 11-13 people were again united with the ANC
comrades and given residences in Dar es Salaam. Thabo Mbeki had also arrived (let us
hope his group had an easier trip than Lennox’ group). Some sort of normality was being
introduced at least for the time being.
Then Lennox joined the MK training. The first ANC group that had received military
training came back from Ethiopia. The next group went to Algeria. Lennox’s group was
the first to go to Egypt which they reached by bus, taxi, river boats, train. It was in Gamal
Abdel Nasser’s days and the training took place near Cairo together with the Palestinians.
After a short stop back in Dar es Salaam, he was off to Moscow for further training as a
20
guerrilla officer. The course took 5 months, but because of the attempted coup in
Tanzania by the Muslim leaders in Zanzibar in 1963 they could not go back and were kept
for another 5 months in the USSR.
When Julius Nyerere was ready to take them back Lennox and others who had been
waiting in the Soviet Union went to the big military base in Kongwa near Dodoma.
Kongwa was the temporary home of freedom fighters from several countries. When they
arrived they found a deserted place, which they had to tame for their camp. On one side
their neighbours were the Frelimo freedom fighters whose camp was much bigger that the
ANC camp. This is where Lennox began to understand what was happening in the
Portuguese colonies.
Until the 1960s Portugal experienced little challenge to its African empire. The opposition
movements were weak or none existent, and in Portugal itself no opposition party had
spoken out in Parliament against its colonial policies. Portugal had joined the UN in 1955
and was therefore exposed to more criticism, but calculated that the fact of naming the
colonies "Provinces in Portugal’s overseas territory" would justify what they were doing.
Successive revolts in Angola and to some extent in Mozambique, however, showed that
the decolonization forces had also knocked on the Portuguese doors. In 1962 Eduardo
Mondlane created the Liberation Movement, Frelimo by uniting three different opposition
groups, in Dar es Salaam.
The two liberation movements, Frelimo and the ANC, developed a close friendship in the
camps in Tanzania. Lennox and his group had already met Frelimo fighters in Egypt, and
a friendship also existed between the leaders, Eduardo Mondlane and Marcelino dos
Santos with Oliver Tambo and other ANC leaders. But it was in Kongwa that this
relationship developed further. Lennox remembers particularly Lopes Tembe because he
had worked in South Africa and therefore spoke both English and Zulu, and served as an
important interpreter in many situations. They met later in Mozambique again.
Frelimo and ANC on each side of a road would often come to each others’ help. Lennox
remembers for example that the ANC had a good medical supply and could often help
Frelimo comrades out.
Life was tedious in the camp, so football matches between the two camps or other sport
events were welcome. But even more so were the monthly cultural evenings they had
together, where they learned each others dances and songs. There was a marked
difference in cultural terms between the ANC consisting to a large degree of township
men and the Mozambicans who mostly came from rural areas.
There is particularly one event which Lennox recalls with affection:
Lennox: We were taken by surprise. When Zambia became independent (1964)
all of a sudden our commanders – apparently they were somewhere together with
Frelimo commanders - said: Let us celebrate this. It was already after time. We
21
were already sleeping. Lights off. All of a sudden a pew call sounded. There was a
race for forming up together. Frelimo as many as they were already in their
formation by the time we came in. We met at the football ground. We all marched
together up till the stand where there was a representative of some government
who addressed us, and talked to us about the importance of the event. Samora
was the main speaker. He talked about the importance of the independence,
particularly to the Liberation Movement and the opening of channels of support.
Our commander spoke on the same tone, saying that we were now getting much
closer to the South African borders. And he talked about what the OAU meant to
the liberation struggle.
There was also an exchange between the two movements in military and strategic terms.
The first plan of going back in 1963 had been abandoned after the leaders of the internal
ANC, - those who should have received them - were caught and sentenced in the Rivonia
Trial. This happened while Lennox was still in Egypt. In Kongwa at the time it seems that
the military strategy of the ANC was not very different from Frelimo’s which had already
from the beginning of their struggle in 1964 started liberating certain zones inside the
country, particularly in Cabo Delgado and Niassa. Later also in Tete. Their idea was to
start in the Northern Provinces and go down through the country. An attempt on their side
to send a group of guerrillas via the Frontline States to the Southern Province of
Mozambique had totally failed. The operative group had been betrayed and everybody
either killed or incarcerated. Amongst them was Samora Machel’s brother, Josefate
Machel, who spent the rest of the liberation struggle in jail in Lourenço Marques.
The strategy of the ANC was also to go back inside the country when the time was ripe
and to liberate areas the difference being that they wanted to spread all over the country
and liberate many zones, urban as well as rural, at the same time.
Time had come for the guerrillas to start their work. They had been fully trained. The
strategy was clear. And 100 men, including Chris Hani and Lennox, started on the march
home. They went back through Zambia, Rhodesia and crossed the Zambezi River on the
day when Albert Luthuli was buried. Therefore the name of the Luthuli Detachment.
This was a joint Umkhonto we Sizwe/ZIPRA (Zimbabwean People's Revolutionary
Army) action. Lennox was leading a group which was supposed to go armed into the
country until they reached Messina where they would split up in small groups of 4-5 each
for their different destiny. Some would go all the way to Cape Town and then organise
support within the various regions. Some should stay in urban areas and create
underground work, and if it came to the push, use arms. The main thing was to strengthen
and create underground structures.
The biggest group was led by Chris Hani who was to go into open combat, settle in
Rhodesia and together with the ZIPRA comrades serve as a supply link to Lennox ' group.
They would be their channels to the Headquarters. Also radio people were to be based
there.
22
It was a difficult terrain without any landmarks and totally flat. Chris got lost when he
went on reconnaissance with his group. Lennox ‘group ran out of supplies and had to go
to a cattle post to buy meat.
Lennox: All of a sudden the place was surrounded by the military, both South
Africa’s and Rhodesia’s. We escaped and managed to jump over to Botswana. It
was obvious; everybody was already hunting for us there. South Africa, the
Botswana police, Rhodesia. They were exchanging information and brought in
spotter planes and military vehicles. We ran out of supplies and we had nowhere
to go. That is how we got arrested. And we were sentenced in different ways.
Some of us who were arrested with weapons were given the longest sentences.
The Chris Hani group, when they knew they were in Botswana and there was no
come back because the police was already after them, hid their weapons, although
some of them kept some weapons with them. They were literally refusing to be
disarmed.
For more information about the Wankie Operation, see Vladimir Shubin’s book The ANC
seen from Moscow which quotes Chris Hani for calling the planned supply route a type of
Ho Chi Minh trail inspired from the Vietnam war.
Lennox was sentenced to three years in Botswana, but got a remission of 6 months. Chris’
group was also detained but released much earlier than Lennox. The South Africans
demanded that Lennox and his group be extradited, but Seretse Khama withstood the
demand. Others, however, were handed over to the Pretoria regime.
In 1969 Lennox was back in Lusaka. It was time to rethink the strategy. Was there any
possibility of finding a road through Mozambique?
In order to explore the possibilities Lennox was sent to Tete, where the Mozambicans had
their bases near the border between Zambia and Malawi. With Frelimo’s help Lennox and
his group studied the situation. The Portuguese were busy building the Cabora Bassa
Damn near Songo, and Lennox was observing how Frelimo was conducting its operations.
He went back to Headquarters to report that on the positive side they would be able to get
all kind of help from Frelimo, on the negative side, however, Tete was geographically too
far away from South Africa to be of any use to them. Frelimo had not developed the route
all the way down.
But they had to get inside.
A new idea was formed. One, that to many onlookers seemed quite a wild idea, but it was
backed by both Oliver Tambo, Yusuf Dadoo, Chris Hani and Joe Slovo. Once again
Lennox was chosen to participate in the mission.
He went to the Soviet Union. This time to Batu, the capital of Georgia, which is situated
on the Black Sea and has a marine base. They spent one year training in sea-landing and
sea manoeuvring. Then they came back to Africa. They first stayed in Mogadishu in
23
Somalia, then moved to Kismayu in the South where all the preparations were made in
terms of luggage, arms, food. They got an extensive briefing from O.R., from Dadoo, Joe
Slovo and Chris Hani. Communication systems were set up. They had to report via
London. The scheme of the mission was to board a ship, a big luxury boat by the name of
The Aventura in Kismayu and they would then sail to a place in Pondo Land in the
Transkei which reconnaissance had decided would be the best place to land. Speedboats
would then take them from the ship to the coast. People were put in strategic positions to
receive them. As soon as they had landed, Lennox was to take over the command, and the
unit was to disperse in groups. Everybody knew exactly where they were going, some to
the Western Cape, some to Natal. Lennox was to stay in the Transkei.
The ship started from Kismayu with about thirty people. They were all excited and well
prepared. On the fourth or fifth day the boat developed problems. They were nearing
Mombasa. Lennox had noted that the Greek crew had been shocked when they saw the
big parcels of weapons being loaded on the boat.
Lennox: They were not at all at ease. They did not know what they had come for.
So we tried again. They anchored somewhere, and the anchor got entangled with
stones. It had to be cut off. Then another problem with the boat. We were ordered
to go back to Somalia.
The sea landing was abandoned. The whole idea was abandoned, and people dispersed.
What followed afterwards seems to be quite confused. Some of the participants tried in
different ways to get inside the country. Some by busses, some by train, even some on
bicycles. Most of them were arrested. A few managed to survive. One group disappeared
all together. Others stayed behind or found their way to neighbouring countries. Lennox
himself stayed in Somalia together with a few comrades. They had to move constantly
from one hotel to the other or to private places. He was waiting to get a passport.
It is from this document that he became “Lennox”, the name we all knew him under.
At the same time as Lennox, but from a very different background, Pamela Beira also
decided to leave the country. She came from affluent white Johannesburg. She was not
very conscious politically, but had, as many young people, been “hanging out” with jazz
musicians, artists, journalists. In this environment she met people of all colours and
became aware of the restrictions and difficulties that the black people faced. She fell in
love with a coloured young man. Left her home, when her mother reacted to her social
life. Got caught by the police who found the two young people in a flat. Taken to prison.
Went through medical examination to find out whether they had committed an offence
against the Immorality Act. Then charged with “Intent to commit immorality”. Her family
was devastated, and her mother decided that she would be taken to a juvenile home once
she was out of jail. So Pamela quickly made a decision. When the case was adjourned for
24
two weeks and she got out on bail, she skipped the country. 19 years old. (for more details
see Hilda Bernstein’s book: The Rift).
Pamela had contacts and knew her way in the exile world. She landed in Dar es Salaam,
where she was met by Frene Ginwala and James Hadebe. She had no papers, but through
the ANC she was given a three months permit and was taken to a camp just outside Dar.
But that was tough:
Pamela: Lugelani outside Dar was a refugee camp. Every refugee got a bed
sheet, a set of pots and pans, plates and dishes and five shillings a week to buy
food. I was placed in the South African sections with the guys. We pooled the
money together to buy food. There were very few women and I was the only white
woman. It was a very hard experience. These men came from all over the
Continent.
She decided that she had to find alternative accommodation. But first she needed a job.
And quickly. She was completely broke. As soon as she had gotten her residence papers
she took the first job she could get, and then a new one and a new one, if there was more
money in it. Luckily she had done a secretarial course before she left South Africa. On top
of it she was pregnant (must be through “the intention of committing an immoral act”).
And two and a half weeks after Ilundi was born Pam was back at work again. In her own
words, it was crazy, but such were the conditions. No maternity leave. And little by little
her situation stabilised. She got a flat on top of the Frelimo office, opposite the ANC
office, and her job with the Swedish Aid Agency SIDA made her quite comfortable
economically. Her life could take a quieter and happier tone, and there were lots of
wonderful people in Dar that she socialised with. The leadership of the ANC stayed on
and off in Dar. And for other liberation movements all over Africa Dar was a Centre.
There was always life in her flat, and as she says laughingly:
Pamela: I never had a problem getting a babysitter for Ilundi, because there were
always people staying in my flat.
She was a member of the ANC and did minor works for the Movement, but she was an
independent woman with her own income, her own flat, her own family life.
Her own family life now included Marcelino dos Santos from Frelimo.
His links to the ANC dated back to 1960-61 when he was the secretary general of the
CONCP (Conference of the Nationalist Organizations in the Portuguese Colonies), an
umbrella organization for MPLA in Angola, PAIGC in Guinea Bissau and Cap Verde and
Frelimo. After years in Paris, he moved to Rabat in Morocco when he was elected to this
post. He knew the international organisations affiliated to the The World Peace Council
which worked from Algeria and got to know people like Swai Philiso, Johnny Makatini,
Yussuf Dadoo, Moses Mabhida and many others. In the Mozambican liberation struggle
against the Portuguese he started off being a leader of UDENAMO but joined the new
organisation, FRELIMO, when it was created in June 1962 as a merger of the existing
25
organizations. With Eduardo Mondlane as its first President Frelimo chose Marcelino dos
Santos as its Secretary for Foreign Affairs. Marcelino was clearly a Marxist of the Soviet
orientation while Mondlane was more of a social democrat.
He had written many articles about the situation in the Portuguese colonies, first of all
Mozambique. And then he was a poet. Maybe some of his poems had found their way to
Pamela’s ears? Whenever he was in Dar, he would stay in her flat where they received
people like Oliver Tambo, Alfred and Regina Nzo, Thabo Mbeki, Ruth Mompata, Josiah
and Catherine Jelly , who was for a long time the chief rep. in Dar. Their life together was
often interrupted by Marcelino’s many trips, but they tried to normalise it as much as
possible.
Through Marcelino she now got closer to Frelimo and like Lennox learned about the
struggle against Portuguese colonialism:
As the Portuguese stepped up their activities in the colonies some of the Mozambican
students in Lisbon had to flee from the Secret Police, PIDE. One of them was Joaquim
Chissano who fled to France where he joined the liberation group of UDEMO. Others fled
to Algeria or Morocco.
Eduardo Mondlane, child of the Swiss mission, had gone to finish his studies in the US
where he met with important African leaders like Julius Nyerere. He did, however, still
nurture the idea that Portugal could be convinced to make a bloodless transmission of
power and he tried to convince other Western states and the United Nations to make their
influence felt
In 1961, Mondlane visited Mozambique as a UN official It was during his trip in the
southern provinces of Mozambique that he realised that there was only one solution to the
end of colonialism in Mozambique. His mind was set, and soon after this trip he accepted
an invitation by Julius Nyerere to go to Tanganyika where the Mozambican refugees in
big numbers were waiting.
In 1962 he created FRELIMO from the three existing liberation groups. The first group of
cadres were sent for training in Algeria. Amongst them was the future minister of Defence
Chipande and Samora Machel, who had actually hoped to train as a medical doctor, but
who decided that the military training was what the country needed.
There were many problems in the beginning, but the commitment and fervour of the
leadership changed the situation, and Frelimo became one of the strongest of the
liberation movements. On 25th of September 1964 Frelimo launched its first military
attack in a small administrative post, Chai, in the Cabo Delgado Province. The armed
struggle had begun.
Mondlane had married a white American woman, Janet Mondlane, who became the
director of the Institution they created with American money for the secondary education
of the Mozambican refugees' children. It soon became a centre of Frelimo non-military
26
activities and many of the teachers were later to become important personalities in
Frelimo. It was a thriving institution until in 1967-68 when it became the victim of the
problems that were growing within Frelimo between the two lines of thinking, one
socialist, one tribal and racial. The tribalists involved the Makonde chiefs of the liberated
zone of the province of Cabo Delgado and the racists involved some of the Tanzanian
leaders. Mondlane and his white wife were accused of being CIA agents. The Institute had
to close down. Frelimo was facing its biggest crisis.
Racial elements in the Tanzanian government ordered that the Whites in Frelimo had to
leave the country. Four white Mozambicans, two British working for Frelimo and one
Swede, befriended to a Frelimo member, got 48 hours to leave the country. Jacinto Veloso
who had arrived in 1962 in Dar es Salaam in an aeroplane he had highjacked from the
Portuguese army where he was a lieutenant. Helder Martins who was a doctor and
responsible for Frelimo’s medical work. His wife, Helena Martins, also a doctor and
Fernando Ganhão, one of the teachers of the Mozambique Institute left.
Pamela, too, was submitted to scrutiny by the Immigration Officers, but she was luckier
than the others. She got a two weeks extension on her work permit and 30 days’ to leave
the country. Her ANC membership did not seem of much use, so she and Marcelino
decided to formalise their relationship and got married in October 1968 a few days before
her residence and work permit expired.
It was not a big wedding. Both because it had had to be organised at a short notice, but
also and more so because it took place when most of the leaders - both from the ANC and
from Frelimo - were attending an important OAU meeting in Algeria. J. B. Marks was her
witness. It was probably something Pamela had to realise throughout her married life to
Marcelino, political events were to push family events in the shadow. She was ready to
accept that.
After Frelimo's Second Congres in the liberated area of Niassa in 1968, it seemed that
Frelimo had overcome its problems. Unfortunately this was wishful thinking. On the third
of February 1969 Frelimo’s President, Eduardo Mondlane, was killed in a parcel bomb in
Dar es Salaam. One of Pamela’s first duties as the wife of one of the Frelimo leaders was
to look after Mondlane’s three children in the first terrible days after the assassination,
while they were waiting for their mother to come back from a trip abroad.
Pamela's marriage to Marcelino could symbolically be seen as the marriage between the
ANC and Frelimo. Many, many marriages of this kind, at the lower levels and at the top
levels should follow in the years to come. Lennox with Cecilia was one of them. But apart
from changing her name to Pamela dos Santos, what in practical terms did it mean to
Pamela’s status?
Pamela: That was a very serious and long ongoing and serious discussion
between Marcelino and me... I understood immediately that once I married
Marcelino officially I became a Mozambican. I started working for Frelimo full time
and there was never any discussion about it. That was also because the way in
which Frelimo had conducted its office in Tanzania and its operations in Tanzania,
27
and the way in which the ANC did it, was completely different. ANC always had
supporters who although South Africans worked and earned their own money and
kept their own house with their own financial situation independent of the ANC but
still members of the ANC. Frelimo never tolerated that. Frelimo did not allow a
situation where anybody worked outside the Mozambican organization, earning
their own money and doing their own thing. And once I married Marcelino it
automatically had to be the way it was. Of course. From then on it became my way
of life.
Frelimo never allowed anybody who was part of Frelimo not to be included in its
structure. You worked full time for Frelimo, and if you didn’t have a job in one of
their departments, like health, teaching, nursing etc. you went into the army. There
was no question about it, whatever your colour was. And even those who were
working elsewhere, we did certain periods in the army. The ANC didn’t have that.
She was now a Mozambican. She worked under Jorge Rebelo in the Information
Department in Dar es Salaam and had become a Frelimo militant. The Mozambic Institute
where the Information Department was located had opened again after the turbulent year.
With the assassination of Eduardo Mondlane, a triumvirate was created consisting of
Samora Machel, Marcelino dos Santos and Urias Simango. When Frelimo found out that
the latter had been implicated in the killing of their president and was siding with the
Makonde chiefs, he disappeared, later to be killed, allegedly by Frelimo. Samora Machel
became the president, Marcelino the vice-president of Frelimo.
Pamela had to give up her flat. First they moved into the place where the Mozambican
leadership used to live when they came to Dar es Salaam, like Chissano, Samora Machel,
Mariano Matshinha, Chipande, Pachinuape and Panguene. Jorge Rebelo lived there
permanently because he was stationed in Dar. But this was a house for bachelors. After
some moving around they eventually got a small house that had accommodated the vicepresident of Frelimo, Urias Simango and his family. Pamela and Marcelino moved into
his house. Pamela remembers it with a lot of fondness and has been back to it later. It still
belongs to the Mozambican Embassy.
Pamela had become a Mozambican. She had left the ANC and joined Frelimo. The
difference between the two movements was clear in her mind. It is obvious from what she
says that she has adopted the Frelimo “citizenship” with fondness and pride:
Pamela: During the struggle and the first years after Independence the Frelimo
militants were such a disciplined and organised group of people. We always had a
vision... in a way... I don’t know if I can say superior... - not only as opposed to the
South Africans, but Zimbabweans, Namibians, and even Angolans - that nobody
had the discipline of Frelimo. And we were also an example for a lot of other
countries. The way in which they contained themselves. A very strong urge for
discipline.
28
The problems that the ANC had in terms of a lot of drinking, parties, women was
criticised not only among South Africans but by everybody else. Frelimo never had
those kind of problems by and large.
Pamela is trying to find an explanation as to why the ANC cadres were so poorly
behaved:
Pamela: There was this situation, definitely. And you always put other people at
risk. This was not only in Mozambique. This was a problem that was in Tanzania, it
was in Lusaka. It was a problem wherever there were a lot of ANC militants.
Because you had a leadership which didn’t exercise total control. A lot of times the
leadership was not in condition to exercise control. In order to gain respect, you
have to earn respect. A lot of times the behaviour of some leaders was not
different.
And a lot of people coming out of highly urbanised conditions... they were shocked
by Dar es Salaam. A cultural shock. I know what the cultural shock was on me.
And I know what the guys went through before they were sent overseas. The living
conditions. Tanzania is a Muslim country. The whole cultural dimension was
different. Dar was a totally Muslim town. (Such was Pamela's understanding).
And then the psychology of having a situation where you can’t see the end. You
don’t see where this thing is going. It is not just good for the general well-being of a
group of people. There is something about going into exile, and coming to
understand that this is not a short term thing. It is very long term... They might not
have been aware of it... but they became aware of it. Would I have put myself
through this if I had known that it would take 29 years to come back? When I left, it
was still alright to go away, you would spend 5-6 years, get your education, and
come back. After 5 to 6 years we all realised that we were not going back. No short
term solution. Those who were already in exile then knew they were not going
back. People that came in 76, I don’t know, because I was not so much in touch
with them... But I wouldn’t be surprised if their attitude was the same as ours. They
would go for a short spell and come back. But by the time 76 came, some had
already been out for 13 years, and there was still no solution in sight for South
Africa. All the liberation movements passed through that same problem.
Mozambique was a little bit different. When I came into Frelimo in 68, they had
already had 4 years of armed struggle. I would read all the war communiqués and
you could trace the development of the armed struggle in Mozambique....So you
could see progress even if it was taking a long time. But if you sit in Tanzania in a
camp and you have got no access to information, because there is no
information... it has its mental problems. It was serious in the military camps,
because the ANC had nothing to occupy these guys with. And the guys and girls
just sat for years and years and years. How could you control discipline? No. no.
The conditions of the two liberation movements were clearly different.
Lennox had explained that in many ways the strategy of the two were similar. The ANC
also planned to have liberated zones like Frelimo (see p. ). But in reality there were big
differences between the approaches of the two. Pamela was never involved in military
29
activities let alone strategies. She does, however, have her opinion on how Frelimo looked
at the ANC’s struggle:
Pamela: There definitely was and still is historically a very different attitude to the
concept of what the South African struggle should have been about. Because the
Mozambicans were so directly involved in an armed struggle amongst mostly rural
people; and because Mozambicans had had (their failed) experience in setting up
urban structures, they realised that you can’t have the armed struggle in urban
areas. They had a much more realistic idea than the South African concept of
guerrilla warfare. The Mozambicans - at that period of time - had a much sounder
concept of war strategy and of what Mozambique’s position was in the
international scheme. The fact that Mozambique never participated in the SinoSoviet dispute and the ANC definitely did, the Mozambicans always considered it
wrong. The ANC should never have gotten involved in the Sino-Soviet dispute.
But an awful lot of people respected the ANC a lot.
Life with Frelimo in Tanzania was tough for somebody like Pamela who had come from a
fairly protected South African background. Perhaps one of the most difficult parts was to
let go of her only daughter when she was 7 years old and - like any other Frelimo child –
had to go to school in Southern Tanzania, in the Tunduru Camp which was intended for
children up to the age of fourteen. Ilundi attended this school until she was twelve when
Independence came. For the long holidays the children would come back to their parents
if they were around. It would take two whole days and nights to come back to Dar. The
children were put in a jeep with their mats and blankets. Slept in a police station on the
road. The next night also, before they could get back to their families. And those were the
lucky ones who had families in Dar.
Pamela: It was one of those things. They said you had to do it, you did it. There
was never an option. The whole concept of preferential treatment ... that is why,
when I talk about the respect the people had towards their leaders, it was because
we were able to take decisions like that and carry them out at all levels. It wasn’t
even an option. That is how things were. You did it.
Obviously I missed her. Obviously I was worried.
There was one occasion when this woman, Muchanga had come up to Dar es
Salaam from Tunduru. Ilundi had been there for less than a year. And I said. ”So
did you see Ilundi, and how is Ilundi?” And she said to me: “Oh, Ilundi, she is all
right now, but she was sick.” She was sick? What happened to her? “Oh, she had
that sickness with the eyes.” With the eyes, what sickness is that? When the eyes
turn pink? She said:” No, no, she didn’t have the pink eyes sickness. She had that
yellow eyes sickness.” The yellow eye sickness was hepatitis. Because your eyes
turn yellow when you have problems with your liver. You don’t have a yellow eyes
sickness. But she just knew that Ilundi’s eyes were yellow. And Ilundi was
evacuated to a mission. There was a Lutheran mission near by.
I rushed to the radio transmission room, and I sent a message to the principal,
Bonifacio Gruvete. ”Why didn’t you tell me?” And he sent back that message: "No,
30
she is Okay now. She has left the mission. She is back at school". And then later
on I get a letter from Bonifacio that came with somebody else by hand this time,
saying that he had decided not to tell me, because otherwise I would have
panicked and worried, without being able to do anything about it.
Was he right or was he wrong? Now, I am actually quite thankful. But was he right
or was he wrong? I can’t say what I thought.
If you ask me today what childhood sicknesses Ilundi had, I can’t tell you. I never
went through one childhood sickness with Ilundi. I don’t know whether she had
mumps, measles, chicken pox. I don’t know what she had. I don’t know whether
she actually had any of them. I am not sure. I don’t even know what she has been
vaccinated for. The first couple of years that she spent with me, she was
vaccinated, but after that, I don’t know.
I used to get the kids back for holidays for three or four years (also of other
children whose parents could not look after them because they were on
assignments elsewhere). These kids used to come with the most incredible
diarrhoeas. I had one little lavatory in this little house. I bought buckets. I painted
the name of every little girl on the buckets, This is Gabinha’s bucket, Ilundi’s
bucket, Lolinha’s bucket etc. And we had bunk beds. We had this tiny little room,
two beds here, two beds there, that was four beds, and then one of these open
camping stretchers on the floor. At night they would take their buckets. They would
put them outside the door, line the buckets up, and they would start with those
stomachs, would pooh all night. And every year I took these kids to be tested for
Bilharzia, and every year they came back positive. Ilundi has been cured three
times for Bilharzia. The last time was in Mozambique. From the water.
I went down to Tunduru once. When Samora and Josina married they built a very
small house there. The other houses were all mud houses. But they built this little
brick house of cement blocks. It had literally three rooms. One room with a sofa
and a table. And to one side there was one bedroom. And to the other there was
one bedroom. And I used to stay in this house. It had a little veranda. On the front
door. It had a cover and a cemented floor. I am sitting on the veranda one morning
waiting for this guy to make my breakfast, and because it was this little town where
the mission was, there was a collection of shops, it had a little medical centre, and
the Lutheran mission. About ten kilometres away from the camp. And whenever
there was anybody from the leadership, they used to send bread every morning. I
used to bring a tin of coffee, jam and sugar and they would come with boiled water.
I was waiting to have my breakfast, and Ilundi comes past from the central kitchen
which has an open fireplace carrying one of those pots with no handles, and she is
struggling because it is hot. And I said: Oh, you are going to have your tea? And
she says: No, no. There is no tea this morning. We are only going to have water.
And you know your impulse says: come and have tea with me. I have got coffee
and milk. But how can you say it, because she has other kids with her. She was
going to have hot water.
I don’t know what to say about it. Of course I missed her. But it was almost like I
wasn’t given any choice in the matter. It was going to happen, and it happened.
That’s it. (long pause)
31
Do I think that Ilundi became a better person because of it? I think. (sighs) It was a
kind of education, that in the end paid off.
Frelimo had four main camps. The hospital in Mtwara. The children’s camp in Tunduru.
The big military camp in Nachingwea, and then a smaller camp in Songea.
Pamela: By the time we left Nachingwea in 75, the place was totally self sufficient.
If you were not fighting, you were producing. We were producing. We never gave
those people that we had in our camps time to sit down and start fermenting
problems. There were always elements of problems. It was not a 100% proof, but
we never got the problems at the dimension that the ANC developed in their
camps. Because everybody worked all the time.
A place like Tunduru was run by people that had absolutely no qualifications. The
actual running of the camp was basically women. Middle aged women. It was
because there was no other task for them to do. In the general concept of tasks in
the struggle. They were basically uneducated. They were the wives of people who
were in the struggle full time, and they had to do something. What do women do?
They look after children. That is the task of women to do. They handled the
kitchens and the food and the distribution of sleeping arrangements.
The teachers were probably the most qualified teachers we ever had. And maybe
that is why Ilundi got a decent education. People like Joaquim Carvalho, later to
become Minister of Agriculture, Gabriel Simbine, Gideon Ndobe, Maria de Luz
Guebuza..
People at that level were Ilundi’s primary school teachers. And the general running
of the camp, the control of the camp, the production of the garden, was done by
the army. Ilundi was doing military training at the age of twelve.
The Portuguese bombed that camp once. They took all the kids to the bush. They
kept them for six weeks in the bush. Six weeks in the bush. A thousand children.
Pamela has a very clear notion of the character of the struggle and her own role, so she
sums up:
Pamela: By going into the Mozambican situation, I became a full time participant in
the Liberation Struggle. I think that my contribution to the struggle of the South
African people was more positive because I was in Mozambique. Anything I did in
the context of Mozambique was always a contribution to South Africa. Without a
Mozambican Independence there would never be a free South Africa.
The 25th of June 1975 was the day of celebration, of Victory, of Joy.
32
The colonial war had become too expensive for Portugal, both in lives and in money and
on 25 of April 1974 a conspiracy of middle ranking officers seized key points in Lisbon
and installed a military junta under General Spinola, the Clove Revolution. Under
pressure from the more revolutionary elements of the army, he resigned in September,
leaving increasingly left wing leaders of the Armed Forces Movement to negotiate the
liquidation of the Portuguese Empire with the African resistance leaders.
Samora Machel signed an agreement with Portuguese Foreign Minister Mario Soares in
Lusaka calling for a cease-fire and for a Frelimo government to take office. Chissano
became the head of a Transitional government in Mozambique.
The 25th of June 1975 was the day of Pride for anybody who could call themselves
Mozambicans.
Also the Mozambicans in South Africa celebrated the Independence of Mozambique.
But who was a Mozambican?
They were many. Most of them in the City of Gold (and coal) Johannesburg. Many of
them in the township of Chiawela where also the South African Tsonga live. Or
Shangaans if we use the Mozambican term. Many of the mineworkers came from
Mozambique, but in order to survive, most of them hid their original identity and tried to
get a South African I.D.
On this day of Independence for their country, they broke all rules and gathered in the
garage of the family Moshotolo, drank and sang, danced and laughed: Viva Frelimo. They
were proud and they were happy. In their own ways they had contributed to this day.
The Moshotolo story is a story that with a few individual variations could be told by the
thousands of mine workers who came to South Africa in the twenties, thirties, forties,
fifties, and the sixties. Alice Mkatshwa has now passed away, but she had a deep pleasure
in telling me her and her husband’s story:
Alice Mkatshwa was born in 1929 in Chicumbane, Gaza Province, the heart of the Swiss
Mission which in many ways was the home of the Mozambican resistance, opposed as it
was to the ruling Catholic Church. Her father was a mineworker who died in South Africa
when she was 1 year old. Up till the age of ten she lived in utmost poverty with her
mother in her grandparents’ house. The missionaries decided that she should go to school.
After four years of primary school, you could not continue your schooling according to
the Portuguese rules, unless you were “assimilated”, a particularly Portuguese system
whereby a black person could be "elevated" to that of a Portuguese citizen if he/she spoke
Portuguese, if he/she was a catholic and had abandoned his/her traditional ways of living.
Alice had to leave school, was taken in by a relative, Natala Sumbane, who was leading
the girls’ section of the Swiss mission’s youth groups, the Mintlawa but who had the
problem of being paralysed in her legs. Alice divided her time between helping in the
33
house, helping the new primary school children, and helping with the Youth in the
mission.
She tells about a young peasant child, who like herself was going to school. He would get
up very early in the morning, wash his clothes, and go to herd the cattle before he went to
school. It was one of those very bright kids, for whom school work was everything. His
name was Eduardo Mondlane.
One of Alice Mkatshwa’s students, Antonio Chambale, got interested in her. He was a
mine worker on home leave. Once he was back in South Africa, he started the formalities
of asking for her hand, saved enough money to pay for the lobola and next time he was
back in his hometown Manjacaze they got married (1951). It happened in a dramatic way,
because Natala did not agree to lose Alice. She did not only object to the marriage and to
having a send off party in her house, but also on the day of the marriage took all the
clothes and all the household goods that the young girl had been able to gather to bring
with her into the new household. Alice entered the house of her husband’s family in tears,
without anything but the wedding dress she was wearing. She spent two-three happy
weeks with her husband. Then one evening the police came to their door, asking Antonio
to accompany them. He had not paid his “hut tax”, and was taken for chibalo,( the forced
labour that the Portuguese had introduced for the “natives”). One uncle who could not
bear to see that a young man, so recently married, should have to suffer, found the money
to pay him off, and some days after, Chambale fled in the night..... back to South Africa
and the mines.
When he had left, no longer protected by her husband, Alice life became a hell. She lived
with Antonio’s mother and father, but the father had another wife in a house next to theirs
with other children. Everything that Alice had or that her husband sent from the mines,
went to the father and his other family. She and the daughter, Angelina, who was born a
year later had got nothing. Hardly any food to eat. And she had to hide the extra dress she
used for church. When her husband realised what was going on, they decided that she
must leave the house in the night. She now had baby number two, Nelly, only a few
weeks old. The older one was left with her mother, and she managed to get to Lourenço
Marques and then to Ressano Garcia (1954). Antonio had arrived with the train to
Komatipoort to meet her, and together they returned to Citydeep in Johannesburg where
the Swiss Mission could give them a temporary house until they got settled.
On arrival she realised that her husband was no longer Antonio Chambale. Through some
Venda friends, he had managed to get a new identity, Jimmy Moshotola, born in Venda.
And she too had to find her new identity and became Alice Ndlovo, born in Tzaneen, a
Tsongas area in Northern South Africa. The children also got this surname, and up till
their marriage retained this name. Nelly was told never to reveal to anybody - not even
their closest friends - that they came from Mozambique. Indeed a new identity.
Her third child and only boy, Sertorio, was born in Sophiatown. But immediately after,
the Boers told everybody to move out. The township was to be demolished. Now came a
difficult time. At first they found a place to live in Alexandra township, but Antonio
34
found it too insecure. Too many tsotsis. By now he worked in Johannesburg. But where
could he live? Only people born in Johannesburg had the permission to live there. Alice
did not have any permission since according to her I.D. she was born in Tsaneen. But with
women the authorities were less strict. They cooked up a story about setting up a sewing
workshop in Daveyton and she got the permission to own a house there. This is where the
family had to settle, until Antonio found it unacceptable to live in his wife’s house and
only illegally be tolerated there. Somehow eventually through friends and manipulation,
he managed to get a place in Chiawela, a house that the family stays in up till this day.
The apartheid laws and the Group Act is still in horrible memory of most people. For the
foreigners who entered the country and wanted to settle there, it is even worse.
But the Moshotola family managed to penetrate the system. And not only did they
manage. Antonio was politically very active. He disappeared in the evening, to have
meetings. Alice never knew where he was after work, but at eleven he would be back with
her. Neither she nor the children - even when they grew older - knew what his political
life consisted of.
Alice: Naquele tempo Chambale tinha reunioes do ANC. Nao sei aonde. Com
Mandela e estes. No tempo era Sophiatown. Sempre sai da casa. Vai para
reuniao (56-57). Reuniao. Reuniao. Reuniao. Quando Mandela estava na prisao,
vai trabalhar underground. Nao sei onde. No City. Porque as mulheres nao podem
ouvir do ANC. Porque as mamanas falam muito.
He had a garage built in which they had two types of meetings: Meetings for the ANC,
and meetings for the so-called Torchlight Association.
The Torchlight was a Burial Society which gathered all kinds of religious denominations:
There were Catholics, there were Nazareans, there were of course Swiss Missions,
Methodists and others. They met semi officially. And particularly at the beginning, it was
mostly Mozambicans to whom they had a stronger affiliation. Little by little the group
was enlarged and covered also the South Africans, their neighbours and co-workers.
But Antonio and a small group of close friends used this forum as a cover for more
serious political work. They were not in contact with Frelimo in Tanzania, the distance
and the communication was too big a hindrance, but the little group knew that when they
were called to meet inside the house - not in the garage - it was because there were some
political issues on the agenda that were not for public consumption.
Antonio Chambale passed away in 1997. He is not here to tell us all the things he did, but
one of his closest friends and political companions from that time, Azarias Nkuna made
a speech during the funeral in which he said:
Many families in South Africa belong to Associations. These Associations are
mainly for helping when there are difficulties in the families. Bereavements etc.
You pay into it when you are a member. So this cell was a pseudo society with the
35
name of The Torchlight. A burial society but it had the underground political
overtones. This one dates back to 1962.
He then gives a summary of how the organisation developed.
Most of the people from that time have passed away, and we are telling this so that
the people from Mozambique should know. This is how we used to do things in
South Africa. In 1975 when Frelimo got Independence, all Mozambicans
celebrated. They all came to Chambale’s house to celebrate Mozambique’s
Independence.
Chambale was always so receptive. Even here in South Africa, in those difficult
days, he was always ready to open his doors to the pro-Frelimo meetings.
Whenever there was something political to discuss we would go to Chambale’s
house. But outside it was ordinary burial talks. So we knew amongst ourselves
when it was political: Now it is time to go to Chambale.
Nkuna ends his speech by saying:
Although it was originally a Mozambican thing, now many people have come into
the organisation. It is open to all the ethnic groups, the Sothos, the Swazis. The
Association has grown so much that it is for all. And we should be proud of that. It
shows us the unity that exists between people.
The relationship between Mozambique and South Africa is very complex. Although
we are from Mozambique we are in South Africa, we speak shangaan, and we feel
at home. The same thing with the Chambales and the Nkunas they feel at home. It
just emphasises how artificial the demarcation is.
Since then, Azarias Nkuna has also passed away. But another close friend and a relative
of Chambale’s, Agosto Machado Manjate, tells us his story from that time:
He arrived in South Africa in 1952 from what was then called Portuguese East
Africa. Since he didn’t get South African identity papers, both his Zulu wife (from
Natal) and his children were always considered “Portuguese”, not South Africans.
This meant continuous problems in finding accommodation as has been explained
above. He too, came as a miner through the recruiting agency WENELA, but didn’t
stay long in the mines. As a matter of fact many Mozambicans, whether they
wanted to be miners or not, went through the mines as the only possibility to get
legally out of Mozambique, in the hope that they would later find the job they
wanted. And Manjate was successful. After a couple of years as a gardener and
helper in a construction firm, he got a job in the Mozambican Delegation of Labour
run by the Portuguese Government. It was through this office that he eventually
managed to get a house in Chiawela. He too was always hiding his Mozambican
background, but says that after Independence they came out in the open, and
these were the people that linked up with the Torchlight. Because of the situation
in the country it was kept very secret and any aspiring member was heavily
scrutinised before allowed in.
36
After the Mozambican Independence they used the inner circle of the Torchlight to create
what they called O Grupo Dinamisador de Africa do Sul. They wanted to show their
solidarity with Frelimo, and if somebody was from the Grupo Dinamisador, it meant that
it was an active political member. It was constituted with a secretary, a treasurer and
president. Manjate was the secretary.
Before the first anniversary of Frelimo they collected a good sum of money, and four
people were sent to hand it over to Frelimo. Their contact was Josefate Machel who
organised a big meeting with his brother, Samora Machel. Manjate still keeps the photos
of the event, and remembers with pride Samora’s words to them:
“Voces devem continuar a lutar como voces podem lutar” e deu umas palavras
muito encorajosas: “o combatente na clandestinidade é que está mais em perigo
do que a propria tropa , o soldado que tem arma, porque o combatente na
clandestinidade nao tem nada para se defender, só tem que se defender por boca.
Mas continuem.”
The first donation was given to Frelimo’s Defence Force. But the occasion of collecting
money for Frelimo was not a one off event. Since 1976, different branches of the burial
society have been contributing, and every year in the month of December a group of
South Africans with Mozambican background are travelling to Maputo and received by
the President, first Samora, then Chissano to show their continued support for Frelimo.
After the independence of Mozambique, the secret function of The Torchlight was to help
the ANC. The whole network was nearly blown when the police got inside information
about its real work. Manjate was fetched by the police and interrogated on three
consecutive days. They tried to get him to talk about the Grupo Dinamisador. They tried
to link him up with activities of the other members of Torchlight. But he managed to
deceive them. And they never found out what really happened:
Manjate: O Josefate foi o primeiro chefe. Qualque informação que a gente teve
em Africa do Sul, a gente dirigia a Josefate, e as datas propostas para a reunião
tambem dirigiam a Josefate que vai dicutir com o presidente. Para viajar para
Manhiça precisava-se um Guia de Marcha. Eu era o secretario do grupo
dinamizador e assinava autorizações de entrada para Mocambique. Isso jà tinha
sido negociado na Migração.
Depois do massacre de Soweto 16 de Junho 76 muitos jovenes queriam fugir para
Mocambique mas não sabiam como. Alguns vinham pedir informação e dirigiamse a mim e eu tentei saber se esse estava interessado ou era informador, porque
o governo sulafricano pagava bem para informadores. Eu investigava e deu guia
de marcha a quem era verdadeiro, como se o pai dele tinha voltado para
Mocambique e o filho queria visita´-lo.
Josefate ia ter com chefe de Migracao e estudava como diferenciar-se alguem que
veio para ANC e alguem que veio de visita, nao ia integrar-se ao ANC. A gente
dava guia de marcha. Para quem veio para AdS. o chefe de Migracao de Ressano
Garcia, Generoso, devia saber. Concordaram que quando Manjate passava a guia
37
de marcha, atras, pos uma tinta vermelha, um “X” atràs. Em Ressano Garcia
sabiam que este vem para o ANC. O senhalzito. Quando chega là o Generoso
sabe quem é e a quem se devia dirigir. Ao chefe do ANC, a Zuma, Lennox ou a
“Tata” Cde Dhlokolo que jà faleceu, mas era um dos primeiros que chegou em
Mozambique. Veio com Independencia. Se forem muitos, tres ou quatro, podem
estar na mesma carruagem, mas nao devem conhecer-se. Se era para sair
amanha. ligava para o chefe de Ressano Garcia, Generoso, a dizer que vinha o
dia seguinte para dar uma encomenda. A encomenda é cinco maços de cigarros
Lexington. Ele jà sabe que se são cinco Lexington, são cinco camaradas que tem
que entrar. A segunda prova era que tinham que ter o “X” vermelho. Jà foi
combinado. Era o Generoso que sabia e alguns poucos que tinham a confiança
dele, porque naquela altura havia muitas tropas e ainda tinham esse rancor.
Quando Manjate falava com Generoso era chamado “Aluno 4”. Fazia-se os jokes.
O seu pai continuava a me chamar assim. Se houvesse um assunto muito
urgente, chamava a Josefate. E tambem nao se mencionava nomes.
Without having any statistics, Manjate assesses that around 50 people passed the border in
this way. And he adds with laughter that they were also able to detect some of the spies
that the South Africans were trying to send through, and Generoso then found some kind
of pretexts to prevent these people from crossing into Mozambique.
Manjate got a house from Frelimo in 1976 in Matola and sent his family back but he
himself remained in Johannesburg until 1991. Antonio Chambale, on the contrary sensed
that something was under way, when, in 1976 neighbours started talking about the
meetings that he was holding in his house. He got himself ready, handed over the house in
Chiawela to the oldest daughter, Angelina, put his wife, his two youngest daughters and
three grandchildren in the car. And unnoticed, they crossed the border to Mozambique.
Chambale’s son, Sertorio Chambale, was not with them in the car. He had already had to
leave the country a few months early. When the Soweto uprising started in 1976, he was
doing matric at Bankuna Highschool in the Gazunkulu Bantustan of Northern Transvaal.
He belonged to a student organisation and to an ANC cell at the school.
Sertorio: It was very discrete. Joel Sibiya became a commander. One of the
feared ones. He was our head prefect in the school where I was studying, and it
was through him that I knew the ANC, that I learned a lot about the ANC: They
used to teach us. I don’t know whether to call it a cell, but it was a deliberate
process of educating the youth. So in places like the boarding schools, we were
very well placed for this.
He would also learn about handling weapons, a lesson which would come very handy to
him later. He called it ad hoc military training.
38
Some of his comrades burned the school office down. The next day police came and
checked on everybody in the hostels. He was one of the people suspected of having taken
part. His political inclination was known. He had been to Mozambique in 1975 together
with his father for a visit and when he came back started distributing Frelimo T-shirts in
the school. This was enough excuse for the Police to make some connection with the
incident at the school office. But they couldn’t incriminate him because they had no proof
that he had been part of the action.
Sertorio: And really I had nothing to do with it... but I am the only person with a
transmitter radio. When I passed to Form three, my father was so happy that he
bought me a transistor radio, that means that radio could even capture outside. We
used to use this radio to listen to Radio Freedom, to the PAC radio, to Frelimo. We
learned the songs, the freedom songs through that radio. Whenever there was a
big football match in SA, all the students would come and listen to it and buy
badges. They used to buy lots of badges you know and listen to the match, boxing,
anything. I was the only person with a radio. So I was a good person for them,
because I understood a lot about Mozambique then. My father used to tell us a lot
about his... he is like a Historian. He used to tell us about Kwame Nkrumah,
Eduardo Mondlane. Eduardo Mondlane came from his village in Manjacaze. He
knew everything. So they would ask: Tell us about Mondlane. Then I would start.
From oral history I would tell them. I knew a little bit....
And when I came back from Mozambique in 1975, we went for Christmas, I came
back with a lot of T-shirts that I bought, and my parents did not know. They gave
us money when we came.... so I bought T-shirts. When I came to Bankuna I gave
some to my friends. They used to put it inside with a picture of Samora Machel. It
was a big thing... and we were also getting militaristic then, because I remember
we could buy this military cutting. And I remember, I still have a few pictures when
I was wearing like a military uniform, and this guy Joel Sibyia was talking politics all
the time, so we became very close friends. And then there was a guy who came
from Pretoria, an ANC guy, I only discovered now that I look back, because he is
the one who taught me about how to use a gun. And he used to talk ANC... But
indirectly, because it was not officially a cell.
The incidence happened towards the end of the year. They had finished their exams. The
school closed and he went back to Soweto. His father and the Frelimo cell in South Africa
advised that the best thing for him would be to leave:
Sertorio: I didn’t stay with my parents. I stayed at Chakuma. They
rounded anybody, young. I suddenly realised how secretive parents can be. I had
my first girl friend, in the neighbourhood of Chiawela, and I thought only I knew
about it. Until when I came back home. We sat down. They said: You have to
move. Because if you sit here, the following day you wake up, people will know,
because we had informers even around that place. They will tell the police.... But
where shall I go?... My parents said: You must go to Unica’s house. I was
shocked. .... I stayed with them for a week.... But Unica was not there. She was in
the countryside. So that is when I realised that they knew something. (laughs)... It
was History in the making.
39
And Sertorio managed to escape.
One of the first persons who needed assistance from the Torchlight Association at
Chambale’s place was a member of the Burial Society. He was not one from the Inner
Circle, but he came to them to seek help for his son, Tommy, who had gotten himself into
serious problems with the police.
Tommy Ndhlela was born in Kliptown, Soweto, in 1953, on the sight where two years
later, the Freedom Charter was to be approved as the base document of the ANC. His
family soon after moved into Chiawela just across the railway bridge. Tommy was very
bright and ambitious. Always top of his class. He recalls only one year where he had to
repeat because of an eye ailment. In 1968 he started High school and it was here that he
began to go to meetings and be politically interested. By 1972 the Black Consciousness
Movement was gaining momentum in many African universities. He was part of forming
a student organisation, a debating society which soon linked up with national student
organisations like SASM (South African Students Movement) and SOPA (The Socialist
Party of Azania).
Generally their teachers were black, but there was one white teacher. Although qualified
in maths and physics, which was so needed in the schools at the time, their teacher was
asked to teach them Religious Education, which of course was the least important subject
for these youngsters. They managed to strike a deal with him so that he would teach them
physics and maths, where they had no teacher, but the black teachers and first of all their
black principal came out against them. The students claimed that they did not want white
religion to be stuffed down their throat. The matter was raised with the Inspector, (the
same notorious inspector de Beer who was the Centre of the Bantu Education Rebellion in
1976).... and guess what a surprise, the leaders of this maths and physics rebellion all
failed their matric…. if they were not picked up by the police before that.
But Tommy was lucky. He passed his matric, and then started working as a clerk. By the
help of some of his friends - who had not made it - he got ear of a Jewish firm,
Sharpeville Electronics which was offering a scholarship to a black person. After passing
an aptitude test - his first experience of that strange thing - and after spending some
months working for the firm, Tommy was successful and to his delight started studying
economics at the University of Turfloop in 1974.
Turfloop has formed many of South Africa’s famous people like Matthews Phosa and
Cyril Rhamaphosa. And it was from this University that Abraham Tiro was expelled when
as a SASO leader he stood up and spoke out against apartheid and the bantustan colleges
in 1972. All 1.500 students went into protest strike and other bantu colleges followed. He
got political asylum in Botswana where he was killed by a parcel bomb the following
year.
Tommy was happy that he had got the opportunity to study at Turfloop University. And
he studied. He was determined to pass. But soon he realised that in some of the subjects
he would get low marks regardless of how well he performed the test. He compared his
40
tests with those who got good notes, and realised that something was utterly wrong. At the
beginning of the new semester July -August 1975 he confronted the teacher, who
explained that it was decided at beforehand that of the 80 students only 40 of the new
students were meant to pass the first year. Those who got good marks were all those who
had failed last year and therefore were repeating the year. After fighting the issue, the
teacher gave him an assignment which was in the material they were only going to learn
in the third year, but with the help of older students he impressed his teacher and got a
beautiful 85% in the assignment.
Because of rumblings at the Universities in 1974 and 1975, the Turfloop University was
not allowed a Students Representative Council in 1976. The students were angry, so when
in June they heard that violence had broken out in Soweto and they saw the picture of
Hector Peterson in the newspapers they decided to call a meeting. Tommy featured as one
of the speakers. The students decided to boycott lectures and to hold a peaceful
demonstration on the campus the next day. The next morning the campus was full of
police who threw teargas against them. Tommy was in the group that burned the post
office in the campus. One student was killed by police bullets. The University was closed
and the students told to vacate the campus.
They all slept outside the campus in the mountains, fearful of being arrested and scared
even to go to their rooms and pick up their belongings. The houses of the black lecturers
were raided because they thought they might be hiding some of the students. The
following day Tommy got into the train to Pretoria and back to his family in Soweto
where the air was thick with teargas. There was smell of fire. The streets were littered
with tires, covered with ashes, junk, cars.
Late July they were readmitted to the University of the North. Tommy went back. A
month later the University was closed again. He went back to Soweto, and on the 6th of
September arrested just when he was getting ready to disappear.
Tommy: I was beaten up. I was bleeding from my nose and mouth and then they
finally took me. As we were driving throughout, we went to Iso Moghete’s house,
they didn’t find him, they went to Strike Tokoane. OK I was taken to Jabulane
Police station. I was locked up in a cell. A dirty cell. It was wet, smelling. There was
a man who was there since June...after the uprising. For the first time I got into
prison. I was shocked. I thought it was not real. This man was smelling. In the
morning they brought this grab, soft porridge. It was liquid like. I refused to eat. He
said: You don’t know how long you are going to be here. You’d better take it. I
thought I was strong. I said: No, I am not going to take this. You could see the man
was beaten, and then, indeed, after some time they came and collected him.
Around 11, I could hear somebody shouting from the other cell. It was Strike
Tokoane, who was the Public Relations Officer for PAC. Hey, Tom, are you here? I
said: Yes, I am here. He said: Oh, we have been napped. Our friend, also, Iso
Moghete, has been arrested.
In the afternoon, a big, huge Afrikaner, fat, hairy, came to pick them from the cell. They
were told that they would be taken to Pietersburg. While waiting they were put into an
41
interrogation room and left there on their own in an open room. The idea was probably
that they would attempt to run away, jump the fence… and then shot. But they resisted
this temptation. It would be suicidal to even try such an escape.
Immediately upon arrival to Pietersburg Police station they were taken to the cells where
they found Iso Moghete and another friend, Selo Selele. They were arrested some three
days ago. And had they been beaten! Tommy and his friend now knew what was in the
waiting for them when two days later they were brought for interrogation. They too got
kicked and punched. At one point Tommy was beaten unconscious as they pushed his
head against the table. Dashed it like that. He was rushed to a doctor. Unconscious.
Bleeding. Then he was taken to a cell. A solitary cell. He had to drink water from the
toilet pit. There was no other water.
Tommy: And then I remember, a doctor came, a so-called doctor came late in the
afternoon with his daughter sitting over his shoulders to come and examine. When
he came, he said: “I understand you are not well. What is wrong?” "I am having
dizzy spells now." He gave me some tablets to take. And when he gave me the
tablets, I made as if I am drinking, and kept them under my tongue. Then when
they had left I took them out. Ismael Mukavele came to see us in prison, and
somebody whom I didn’t know came to visit me. It was Enos Nkuchane.. The
provocateur of problems in Soweto. The man who set police scurring all over the
show. Enos was wanted high and low by the South African police. But he is the
man who came to see me at the police station. A very unsafe place. He knew Iso,
but he didn’t know me. But he came to see all of us.
About two weeks later they went to court and were remanded in custody in the
Pietersburg Prison.
Tommy: We were beaten up, humiliated. Were made to stand naked in the
courtyard. The white police officers stuck in their fingers up our backside in what
they call “tousa”, - jump -, to see whether you have things stuck up your ass. Our
asses. Our things were ransacked. It was the most humiliating experience, when
all the warders and prisoners were watching... Then we were taken to common law
prisoners’ cells, not awaiting trialists’ cells. The idea was that we were going to be
sodomized. All of us were taken into the same cell.
When Tommy talks about his experiences in the prison you can feel how close the whole
ordeal is to him up to this day. His voice tells of the big emotions this description evokes
in him.
They were fortunate that when they got into their cell, the prisoners were asking them
why they were arrested. Apparently this is what a newcomer has to do: relate his crime, to
the prisoners, to the head of the cell and of the prisoners. He was a tall, thin man who had
his lieutenants around him. So there they had to tell their stories to people who had
committed murder; to people who had killed their parents; to people who were armed
robbers. When Tommy and his three friends said that they were arrested because of
confronting the state, it was something very new to them. When the four had related their
story, the ordinary criminals said: “So you are the guys who were burning government
42
buildings. You are the guys who have taken the state head on. Yes, you are our leaders
here.” So they were given accommodation next to the sanctuary, the main head quarters.
Their blankets were cleaned of lice. In prison you have two blankets and a mat, one white
blanket on the floor and one to cover yourself. They were given a huge amount of
blankets to make a mattress. So they had comfort in prison. They were not molested.
Tommy: One thing I must say is that for the first time I saw sodomy in prison
where you were told, you all sleep naked. No underwear at night. When you
hear somebody touching you, don’t say anything... OK at night we sing freedom
songs and there was some preaching and then by 8 o’clock all the lights are
switched off, and then the boss says: No underwear. You sleep as you are.
Fortunately we were given this privilege we had to wear our clothes. You could
see men scream, being sodomized, being raped. As much as you sleep, you are
never sure whether you will be the next victim. But during our stay there, lucky
enough, none of us was sodomized. We were given the privilege of being
protected
On the 20th of October they reappeared in the Pietersburg Magistrate Court. They were
given bail of 500 R each. Selo Selele’s brother who was a doctor paid the 2000 R and they
could go.
A week later they had all left the country. On the same day. But to different places.
Tommy decided that he would go to Mozambique. His father was born in Mozambique.
He came to South Africa in the early forties to work in the mines. He got a South African
identity, married, and all his children were born in South Africa. Although the father did
not have close relatives in Mozambique any more, it would be like a trip back to his
ancestral roots. His father helped him making the necessary contacts.
Tommy of course had not heard of the Torchlight Association. Nor did he know that
there was a group of Mozambicans working in the mines who were specialising in
clandestine activities. Some were the old hands, who had been residents in South Africa
for a long time and somehow involved with the ANC. Some were involved with Frelimo
activities. They too were used to clandestine activities. And they told Tommy’s father:
”We will help your son to get out of the country.” Then they went to Roodeport Western
Deep Levels, where the Mozambican “Mafia” were specialists in forgery and falsification
of documents.
Tommy: They had it all there in the mine. Unbelievable. I was taken there by the
late Mr. Gundani who was the director and owner of the Mzumbe Cultural Group,
well known cultural group in South Africa.
He spoke Ndau fluently (from Central Mozambique, where Tommy's family also
came from). He took me to the mines and he made his connections. And there and
then a false document was produced with all historical background, that I worked
in the mines and I came into South Africa, and that I am being repatriated back to
Mozambique. They took me through a drill, that I should pretend that I don’t speak
any South African language very well, it should be fanakelo and a little bit of zulu.
43
They had already made their preparation at the airport. I was to go out via TAP,
the Portuguese airline where they had a good caontact.
All done and settled, his father bought the ticket, and then who was to transport him from
home to the airport, early in the morning was Mr. Moshotola, Sertorio’s father. It was a
ring of friends.
Tommy: He took me in the car that he brought to Mozambique later. It was the
van which he was using for his dry cleaning errands in Johannesburg. So I was
hidden in the car at the back. He drove me early in the morning. But before I left, I
had to bid my family farewell. Everybody was crying. It was the saddest moment in
my life parting with my family not knowing whether I would see them again. I was
given money and on Saturday I had gone to town to buy as much clothes as
possible. And I took some of my books, and also took my University documents
with me. All that had to do with my education I packed in my battered suitcase. I
was told to wear racket clothes, dirty, not well ironed, oversized and keep my hair
uncombed, not completely done. Six o’clock on a Monday we left for Jan Smuts
Airport in Johannesburg. When I got there, my mum was also there. Then I had a
form called guia de marcha and then I handed the suitcase over to the desk. It was
checked. It was my first time in a plane in my life.
I was composed. I can’t believe this. I had to behave as naturally as possible,
because my life was at stake. And then Mr. Chambale, as he was also called
amongst his friends, he was there in the background telling me to keep calm and I
should go to customs and immigration. They are going to ask me questions, and I
should pretend that I don’t understand. I should look stupid. And indeed, as I got
there, they looked at this piece of paper and they called a black policeman to ask
me questions as to where am I going and why. I kept on saying: “Ani xi tive. Ani xi
tive. Mina kaya. Mi famba kaya.” I am going home. I don’t know what you are
asking. I am going home. My documents had the forged information that I was
retrenched from the mine and going home. It was written in Portuguese and then
there were some few Portuguese words that I had learned: “Vou para casa”. So I
had to insist on those things.
I could see the black policeman was a little bit suspicious but I kept to my words.
Finally they gave me the document and said: Go. And told me where to board my
plane. I got into that plane, and I sat there. My heart was pounding. Pounding.
Pounding. At departure time, I don’t know what was going to happen. First time in
an airplane. They had to help me put my seat belt on. As this big animal, huge
machine started racing on the run away, I was so scared, and finally took off. I
can’t remember the details of what happened in that plane, I just remember
landing in this hot, hot, hot country. Very hot. And I had to go and pick up my
luggage. I had nowhere to go. My point of reference was to go and see Mr. Tutu.
Mr. Tutu was a friend to Mr. Gundani who was already informed that I would be
arriving. And the instruction that I was given was that as I come out of the airport
after declaring myself through customs and immigration was to get into a taxi and
give them the address. The taxi driver will drop me there. As I came out I went to
immigration. The police were asking me for the document. I showed them this
document. For them also it was a genuine document, and I was allowed to go
through.
44
The Mozambican “Mafia” had worked wonders. Tommy was in safety. However much
shattered and alone... Tommy had arrived in Mozambique, his safe haven.
Tommy and Sertorio were both part of the student uprising although they participated
outside Soweto. Thandi and Fikile, too, were township kids who were forced to leave
their families and go abroad. They did not know each other at the time, but in different
ways also came to give their contribution in Maputo.
Thandi was of the Ngwenya family with five siblings. She went to school in Springs, but
when she was at Secondary School her mother developed a mental illness which meant
that she could not be left alone at home and much less look after the family. Thandi, her
name before she went into exile, was the only child who could fulfil that role. Her older
sister was already married and had left the family, and her younger sister too young. So
Thandi was taken out of school at the age of fifteen and became the mother in the family.
The father, although very caring and very supportive, was a long distance truck driver,
and therefore left the house for long periods. He would always leave enough money, he
would always be trying to find a cure for the mother, but in the reality of the day-to-day
life, Thandi was in charge.
It was tough, first of all because mental health was not well understood, and she is proud
to remember that the family never shrank away from being on their mother’s side, even
when Thandi was sometimes called from afar in the township, because the mother had run
away, and some of the neighbours had strange reactions to her behaviour and mocked the
family. They only cure they knew of, in this very religious family, was to take her to the
“Prophets” and pray for her improvement. However tough this period was, Thandi
remembers with tenderness the close feelings she developed not only to the mother, but
also to her four year younger sister, Margaret, whom she brought up together with the
other siblings.
As time went by, the younger siblings were old enough to help her in the household, and
it also seemed that the mother improved a bit. This gave Thandi more time to see some of
her friends, those friends who still attended school and who were getting more and more
involved in politics. Thandi went to some of the meetings, and she started reading some of
the literature that was being passed around, hiding papers and books under the mattress, or
wrapping them in papers and then in a box under the bed as she was told in the meetings.
She remembers in particular what a revelation it was to read a book by Angela Davies.
Many of her friends would disappear one by one, and everybody knew that they had left
the country. One day Thandi was picked up by the police and interrogated about these
friends. She maintained that she didn’t know where they had gone, and they let her go.
They were soft on her this time but made it clear that this was her last chance; they
wanted information about these people.
45
This is when she realised that her life was in danger. She wouldn’t believe it at first, but
her immediate leaders told her to get ready to leave. Intimidated though she was, she
nevertheless participated in a meeting, where she for the first time in her life stood up and
in front of everybody gave a long talk about all the things she had been learning over the
last months. About Black Power, about Black Consciousness, about the books she had
read, and she amazed herself in the way she went on talking as if she had done nothing
else in her life.
But this meant: departure. She could no longer delay. Towards the end of 1978 she was
given instructions about the day of departure. The only person that she involved in this
horrible decision was Margaret. They wept, but Thandi told her smaller sister that it was a
matter of survival. Margaret would from now on have to take on the responsibility of the
family. She was by now around fourteen and would have to be big enough to step in.
Thandi put on three panties, one bra, one pair of tights, one pair of short trouser, one
underskirt and a long dress. Two skippers inside. And then one small bag with her
passport. She also took the money her father had given her for the household and put it in
her bag. A friend of hers drove her to Witbank where she took the train to Malelane. She
spent one night with her contact and then had to move on, because when her friend, Tiny,
had passed there shortly before, the contact had realised that he was under surveillance, so
she had to manage on her own. She spoke some xiswazi (her father was a South African
Swazi), and with the help of a family living on the border, who let her spend the night in
their house, she walked across the border into Swaziland the next morning. The rest was
easy. She took a bus to Manzini, and immediately found the refugee centre of the UN who
phoned the ANC people.
Stan Mabizela, the ANC representative linked her up with a chap called General and two
or three days later she was on her way to Namaacha where a group of them led by a
comrade Ali crossed the border fence, first the Swazi side, then the Mozambican fence It
was in the middle of the night, but a comrade Peter was waiting for them, and took them
to a house in Matola just outside Maputo.
Since the moment she had found the ANC in Manzini all her fear was gone, and complete
confidence had given her new strength. But in Matola she was even happier. Her friend
Tiny with whom she had spent so many meetings and had so many discussions in Springs,
was waiting there together with other comrades from home. She was overwhelmed with
tenderness until she realised that Tiny was pregnant. Ali had already indicated to her that
she would meet many friends in Mozambique and that one of them was Tiny. What she
didn’t know was that it was Ali who was the father of Tiny’s pregnancy. She got angry
with Tiny:
Zola (as she was now called): ”What is this now? Why do you have a boyfriend?
Having a boyfriend means that you are going to stick with him. Now, you are
pregnant. How are you going to go back home? Do you intend getting married and
staying in exile for many years?”
Tiny started crying and crying and said: “But I am in love with this chap.” She started
telling how much she loved him, but Thandi wouldn’t hear of it and said: "I will tell you.
46
I am going back home. I do not intend to get married. I am not intending to have a family.
I am going back home.” Determined she was.... little did she know!
Thandi was now to be called Zola. She stayed in Matola for a long time. The number of
people varied. Sometimes they would be more than a hundred in that reception centre.
The newcomers would sleep in different houses, but come there for political discussions,
for news analyses, for cultural activities. The programme was full the whole day. (Maybe
ANC had learned from the Frelimo comrades in the Tanzanian camps!) Normally they
would spend the whole day there, and after the seven o’clock news and supper be taken
home to their different sleeping places. Only the security people and a few others would
stay there. They would make sure that particularly ladies, leaders and trained comrades
would be taken back in time.
She had been accepted without problems by Stan Mabizela and General. But now was the
time of thorough scrutiny. All the newcomers were asked to write up a small biography
about themselves. And on the basis of this they would be interviewed by the leaders.
Sometimes in a formal way, other times they realised that they had been tested during the
course of an ordinary conversation between friends. She accepted this, although it was
nearly getting too much. Why was it that more and more of her contemporary were given
assignments and made to leave the reception centre for their next post? She was very open
to whoever asked her questions, but at the end, when one of the comrades called Staline
called her for an interview again, she asked him straight: Do you suspect me?. No. Then
why all these interviews. Is it because I came alone? No answer.
Like everybody else, she had been given the choice of going to school or going to the
army. At the beginning the schooling mostly meant that they would be going overseas, but
later on, when The ANC school, the Solomon Mahlangu Freedom College in 1978 started
operating in Morogoro, Tanzania, they would be sent there. Zola had clearly opted to go
for the army. Although you could have thought that education would be an opportunity
for her who had lost out on secondary education. But no doubt in her mind:
Zola: They said to me if I go to the Army, the chances of me going to school are
very slim, but if I started school then I can later on go to the Army. But my Heart
was still at home. My heart was still with my parents. My heart was with my Ma. I
felt I don’t want to stay for a long time outside. I wanted to go back home and be
with my family. I just wanted to have something like a crash course. A course that
is going to take me back home immediately and be with my family. I felt my
responsibility is with my mother. I have to be there. I have to be there for Margaret.
I can’t just let Margaret take responsibility for everything. She is still at school. And
that is why I said I want to go to the army ... not knowing that I would end up being
in exile for so many years (over 12 years).
Maybe her choice of going to the army was one of the reasons why they had to make very
sure she was the right person. That they could rely on her, and that she could stomach the
ordeal of going to the army.
47
During her long time in Matola she participated in cultural activities in Maputo. She had a
beautiful voice and sang in the ANC choir. Amongst other places they performed for the
Independence Celebrations on the 25th of June and they went to sing at the trade
exhibition of FACIM at the end of August. When they were preparing a drama, some of
the ANC students came to participate. One of them was Tommy, and she noticed that he
took a special interest in her. But she brushed him off when he wanted more information
about her future: “Are you going to go away from Maputo?” I am. But we don’t talk about
these things. We are told not to tell anybody where we are going, when we are going and
with whom.” And under the eyes of the trained comrades who were looking after the
candidates, Tommy quickly shut up and minded his own business.... At least for then....
Eventually Zola was taken to Angola, as she had wanted.
She started in the famous Melanje Camp for the basic training course. After completing
the training she was taken for a “survival course” (no comparison with later TV shows!).
That was a hardship course of two weeks.
Zola: We were two ladies in our company. It was myself and Harriet. It was a very
tough course but we survived.
To be in Angola, it was really a tough life. It wasn’t easy. First you look at yourself
and you look at the whole camp full of men, and you ask yourself if you are going
to survive those men, and you know South African men. When we grew up in the
township the men would force you to...to...to fall in love with them. They would
propose, and if you say no, then they would just push you and squeeze your hand
and then hit you with a stone and all things, until you say yes. So you thought: oh
my god, what am I going to do here? Am I going to be able to train with these
people? The training was not softer on women, or harder on men or what. It was
just training. You would do the same thing. If you had to run twenty kilometres, you
would run twenty kilometres with the knapsack, with your gun, with your
magazines, with your water, with your boots and a uniform. So we were training
like men. There was no exception. I remember when we went to the survival
course which was very, very tough.
Zola’s company was considered a tough one. So the whole company, consisting of four to
five platoons, each with about thirty people in it, was taken for the survival course. And
out of 120-150 people only two girls, Harriet and Zola.
Zola: So in that survival course I remember we were given a bottle of water and in
that water, you were supposed to drink water and then you would be given a cup
of water to wash yourself, to brush your teeth and wash your pants. And it was
like... I didn’t think this could happen to me. How am I going to wash? And you
know, me and Harriet we would pour water in a small glass whatever or a tin, we
didn’t have a glass, a tin, and then we would share that water to wash our teeth,
wash our teeth and then we would make one washing rag wet, and the other one
would remain dry. And then I would put soap on that washing rag, she would use
one side of the washing rag to wash her face, arm pits and the other parts of the
body, and then after that, she would not wipe it, she would give it to me, I would
48
continue on the other side of the washing rag to do the same thing, and then she
would use the other washing rag to wipe herself... But we survived that situation.
You would not be allowed to drink water any time you feel like drinking water
whether you are thirsty or whatever. It is very hot, but you would not be allowed to
drink.
And when that happened, you know we used to eat this very salty beef, and after
eating it, or while you are eating it, you feel like drinking water, and you are not
allowed to touch that water until the platoon commander says: Now you can drink
water. Because if you drink water, and your water gets finished, and anything
happens on the road while we are still walking, because we used to walk, walk,
walk a lot in the bushes and crossing the river and doing all those things. And if
you have no water, no one is going to give you water. If you drink your water it is at
your own risk. You must know that you are not going to get any other. So no one
could venture on doing that. You wouldn’t find yourself in a situation whereby there
is no water.
They were treated as harsh as the men. They coped. But then there are times when women
are different from men.
Zola: When you go to the camps, the first thing they say to you as women is: You
will meet with a doctor. The doctor will come from Luanda and talk to you and tell
you about contraceptives, and tell you about the dangers of falling pregnant. If you
fall pregnant in Angola, then you will be taken to Tanzania, because they don’t
keep children and their mums there. Some of us were scared of Tanzania,
because of malaria that we had heard is killing people. So they say you can either
take an injection, tablets or a loop. Most of us opted for the loop. Just to take
precautions. Whether you were going to have a boyfriend or not.
When you have a loop, you always feel the pain... Some of them, they used to
come out. When you are running, doing all those physical trainings, they will come
out, and you will have to get a doctor again to come and set it.
Some times when you menstruate, you have this terrible pain, and... ouh... that
was the toughest time. Because whenever you feel those pains, some male
comrades would say: You are lazy. You don’t want to go for training. You are sissy
like and then they would tell the instructor that that one is starting with her tricks.
She doesn’t want to do physical training, and she always complains that she has
got pains. And it was like... these people don’t understand the pain that we are
going through.
We would only eat lunch and then try and sleep a little bit and then it would be
better. But sometimes they would give you some painkillers.
In the survival course they were only two women, but in the camp now, they were many
belonging to different companies. In the Women Section meetings they would talk about
these problems.
Zola was proud of her time in Angola.
49
Zola: It wasn’t easy. But I am proud of having experienced that. You know
whatever you talk you talk from experience, you talk from what you know, and
when you look at those women occupying high positions, being a general or what,
you know that they really merit that, they deserve that considering the training that
you undergo all of you. And those who come from the GDR, those who come from
Moscow. You feel really proud, you see. I am this or that. I was sweating to be
what I am to-day. It wasn’t easy.
But although she was proud, she was also happy when she was informed in 1980 after a
short stay in the Quibashi Camp, that she was to leave and she was to be posted in one of
the front areas. She wasn’t told which at first. But her delight was big when she was told
to go back to Maputo. That would be her future area of duty. She felt she was coming
home.
Fikile Gwamanda’s story is similar to Zola’s. She lived in Soweto and had a boyfriend,
Master, who was deep into ANC politics and helped people get out of the country when
the time had come. After having helped a friend of hers to leave, the police got on to
them, and it was now their turn to leave. Like Lennox they went through Botswana, and
after staying for some time in Francistown they got on a plane, spent a short while in
Lusaka and went on to Tanzania.
They were many in the camp. Four females in one room and the rest were men who were
sharing the other rooms in two big residences. One had about fifteen rooms with 10 men
in each. They cooked in turns or sections as they were called.
At one stage Nkele – which was her new ANC name - was made a Medical Officer (MO)
and got some training to be able to perform her duties. She would assist people who got
mosquito bites or got injured or who suffered from malaria, but soon realised that she
couldn’t cope. In the evenings there would be these queues of twenty or twenty-five
people waiting for her, and she would have to wash their wounds, and she just couldn’t
take it. At one stage she actually cried and asked to be taken off the job. They accepted
her problems and instead made her the treasurer.
This was less bloody but not easy. She was to keep track of the money that was spent
shopping, and quickly realised that unless she herself went to buy the fruit at the market,
they would see very little food for their money. And there would be complaints in the
meetings.
They would get milk and meat everyday. The milk tasted strange. It was camel milk, but
when used as sour milk it was OK. The meat was grey and bloodless. Probably Halal meat
in this Muslim town. Unfortunately they didn’t have mealie meal for making sour
porridge, so they just drank the milk when it was sour.
Nkele like Zola and like Master had opted for the army as opposed to Education and for
the same reason: school was just going to take too long. Unfortunately when her comrades
left for Angola at the end of 1977, she was ill and couldn’t go with them. She had been
50
suffering from stomach problems even before she left the country. Something had to be
done.
Nkele: They sent me to Hungary for medical treatment. I stayed there for three
months at the hospital, and I was taken to a sanatorium, but nothing really major
was done. I just got injections and tablets. I came back January 78 and after a few
weeks I got ill again. They took me to the hospital in Dar where I was X-rayed. And
they said that one of my intestines was twisted. So they had to operate and would
remove the appendix at the same time. I went to the Agha Khan hospital. The
doctor was Kasambala. He was very good. But the operation was so painful. And
the injections they gave me. The wounds from the operation healed in two weeks.
And I never suffered again. It was very, very good. And throughout my training I
was just fit.
Master was in Angola. He used to write me letters. Sometimes I would be crying.
But I joined them late 78. I stayed in the Quibashi camp for just two days. At least I
saw him. It was a big relief. And we proceeded to go to the South. We stayed at
Benguela for a night and then continued for military training. We did the first six
months training. And after the six months training we would do the three months’
specialised course in artillery or tactics.
They used to make beds and put their sleeping bags on top. Nobody would sleep on the
floor. The rooms were cosy and they felt like home with running water inside the rooms
and toilet inside the barracks for the women. The men had toilets outside.
But the food was difficult. Specially the breakfast. They used to get oats in the morning,
but the oats had worms and brown insects. The strategy was to put milk on it, so that the
insects would come at the top, and could then be removed. They also developed a tactics
of not looking at the food but talking and looking at each other while the stuff went down.
You just eat. And you got used to it.
There was a lot of fish. Different kinds of fish. Tinned fish. This was lunch and supper.
But Nkele didn’t like fish, her nose still remembered the smell of rotten fish in her school
days, so she had a standing agreement with the kitchen staff that if there was any oats
remaining from the morning, they would keep it aside for her. She would sometimes end
up eating oats morning, lunch and evening.
In the Melange Camp they were trained by the Cubans. Occasionally the Cubans would
slaughter a cow. The peasants would just leave their cows wild and unattended. So the
Cubans would just take one of the cows and prepare it. It would be so nice. And every
month there would be a birthday party for the people who were born that month, all of
them. A slice of cake. Fresh cake that the Cubans had baked or bought somewhere.
Master was in another camp. He would write letters to her. And sometimes she would get
them. Sometimes she I didn’t. And she would write to him not knowing whether he got
them. That was the life. And they were refused permission to visit each other until they
had finished training.
51
What would Nkele’s experience as a woman be? Like Zola’s?
Nkele: The men were wonderful. You felt at home. I was scared initially. Because
of the relationship that existed at home. People would stop you when you were
coming out of your gate. It was like in the jungle. A guy would come and propose
to you, and some would threaten you with a knife. But there were no situations like
that in the camp. If a person is proposing to you, you just say: No, I can’t. I am not
available. My boyfriend is so-and-so, and they respected that very much. They
would just leave because it was dangerous. In case anything happens, we were
carrying guns, so it wasn’t easy. We were about twenty women out of 500 in the
camp.
At some stage when they were alerted about a possible South African attack, they went to
live in the bush outside the camp.
Nkele: I was the only woman in my group ... we were about twenty-two ... we
constructed a tent and put trees on top. We were sleeping there. And every night
they would wait for me to sleep. Then in the morning they would have the radio
news and analyse the news. And then after that there would be two comrades who
would go to the river and get me water and they would say: this water for your bath
and then they would go outside, close the tent and I would wash myself. I said
Jesus, this is heaven. Like a princess.
These two women have been positive about the respect for women in the camp. I have
heard less rosier stories also, but at that time, in that place, the ANC was serious about
making a break with gender policies from home and try to create equal conditions for the
recruits.
There was another problem for the recruits in the camps, be they women or men. The
threat of South African attacks.
Nkele: During the three months training we were told that the South Africans were
going to attack us. Around January they attacked the SWAPO camp. Not far from
us. But we didn’t hear the explosions. We would go to the camps during the day,
and in the evening go to the bushes and sleep.
One day ... we had just finished our news ... we saw something black... like a
shade ... hiding the sun... it was like a bird or something big and dark and we were
surprised. And in minutes it was just bombs. Oh, attack. Take your positions. And
we ran in that bush. We knew where we should run to. The instructors told the
male comrades to fire with their big guns, And they started firing at those planes.
We saw them. Just passing us. But they couldn’t see us, because the bushes were
dense. That is when the guns started. There was that attack.
Later we were told that one of the planes fell into the sea so probably they
succeeded to hit it. We had ... those two big guns, you know, that you drive like
that. We had the strelas, a machine which you just point at the plane. Once there
is a light showing you know that it is now striking to release. You just press the
52
button, and it goes, and it will follow, even if it can try to dive. But the keepers ran
away. They were so scared. There were four-five-six planes.
We had ... eight barracks. Ours for the females survived. But others were
completely demolished, especially where the instructors were staying and the
commanding staff.
They killed one Cuban who was in communications, who was communicating with
Cuba and Luanda to tell that the situation is like this or that. He died.. One person
who was on duty that day around the camp was also killed. And one comrade was
in the kitchen. Because they used to prepare food in the kitchen, and then there
would be a team that fetched it.
Soon after this attack Nkele was chosen for further training in the Soviet Union. Her nine
months were over.
It would take another couple of years before she was eventually sent to Mozambique.
53
Chapter Two
Fleeing Home, Coming Home:
The ANC in Independent Mozambique
When Tommy landed in Mozambique, Frelimo had been running the country for about a
year.
On the 7th of September 1974, in Lusaka, the Agreement of transfer of power from the
Portuguese to Frelimo had taken place, according to which Joaquim Chissano would head
a transitional government for one year. In protest to this agreement and on the same day
the ultra right settlers in Lourenco Marques had attempted a coup against the new to-be
government. They seized the radio station, but it did not take long til the Portuguese army
backed by Frelimo, although most of whom were still in Tanzania, restored law and
order.
This was the last straw for the Portuguese. They fled in their thousands. Some stayed for
at short while trying to get their financial assets with them. And indeed many succeeded
in the monetary chaos that followed. All over big containers were standing in front of the
gates of their rich houses. In the countryside the cattle was killed or found roaming about.
The Portuguese were not thrown out, but feared the worst from a black, socialist
government and by the time Tommy arrived there were only about 20.000 out of 200.000
people of Portuguese descent left in the country.
Samora Machel had made his historic trip From Rovuma to Maputo and landed in
Lourenco Marques on the Eve of the Independence Celebrations the 25th of June 1975.
He wanted to underline that Mozambique was one country in all its vastness and
diversity, and all its citizens were the Mozambican Povo. It was the first attempt of
‘doing away with the Tribe for a Nation to live’.
Less than a month later, on the 24th of July, came the nationalisations of health,
education, legal practices and the funeral services. On the 3rd of February 1976 housing
was nationalised.
The new political leaders had had to change their skills from being guerrilla fighters to
run a country… And with very few educated people to help. Therefore Frelimo took over
the big industries and the big plantations left behind by the Portuguese without the
manpower to run them. It was admirable yet disastrous to see ordinary workers taking
over and having to manage factories or State Farms and to see young children taking over
posts as directors in education and health because they had had a bit of education.
Frelimo introduced Grupos Dinamisadores at all levels of activities to manage both the
life in the neighbourhoods and in the work situation. They would hold meetings with the
population and explain Frelimo policies, and they would issues certificates and travelling
documents, listen to grievances, make decisions on the running of a workplace. They
were Frelimo's backbone in this completely new order of life.
54
Pamela had come ‘home’ to Mozambique just before the Independence Celebration as the
second Lady of this new country that she saw for the first time.
They moved into a big house next to the State House with an equally big garden and a
beautiful view on the Sea. On the Southern Point of Maputo, called Ponta Vermelha.
They stayed there for six months before they moved into the militarily protected zone.
Six difficult months where the new leadership had to change from being the comrades
with the people living strictly under the same conditions as everybody else to having
luxury cars, luxury houses and being protected all the time by security.
Pamela remembers that the many ANC cadres who passed Lourenco Marques during this
period. She and Marcelino often had ANC people for dinner, like her good friends from
home, Joe Slovo, Ruth First, Frenny Ginwala. Esop Pahad stayed with them for some
time, Lindiwe Sisulu had just come out of prison and came to see them. Josiah Jelly, Joe
Gqabi. And the first time she met Jacob Zuma was in that house. He was recently out of
Robben Island and had gone to Swaziland in order to find his way back into the country
and join the struggle inside, only to find that nearly the whole Natal leadership who
should have received him, had been arrested. When the ANC sent a big delegation to the
Independence Celebration at the Machava Stadium headed by Oliver Tambo, Joe Modise,
Thabo Mbeki, Jacob Zuma and Lennox were also there and joined in the important talks
and decisions held at the margin of the Celebrations.
Soon after Lennox moved to Lourenco Marques on a permanent basis and towards the
end of that first year, the ANC representation was formally recognised with Lennox as its
chief representative and Jacob Zuma as the deputy representative.
During this first year also, Lourenco Marques got its present name, Maputo. A few
months later most of the street names were changed to their present situation and the
University of Mozambique was to be called after Frelimo's first president, the University
of Eduardo Mondlane.
In November 1976, Tommy landed in a hot, hot, hot country with the instruction to get
into a taxi and go to some Mr. Tutu who was a friend to Mr. Gundani. His account of the
difficulties, mostly emotional, he was faced with, is probably something many people
will recognize in his situation, but few would like to describe the desperation and the
hopelessness that only later turned into a feeling of having found ‘home’ and some sort of
stability.
Tommy: Here I was on my own, in a country I knew nothing about. Here I was in a
country where the weather was infested...was unfriendly to me... completely hot. It
was in November. The language was foreign. The money and the manner of
dressing was completely alien to my. They seemed completely, you know, bundu
type, rural, backward. Then I got into a taxi. And he drove me to Rua da
Resistência... It was in the afternoon. Mr. Tutu came out and I was unaware that
around lunch time people sleep in Mozambique. He had just had his siesta. He
55
was in his pyjamas and a vest. He received me: So you are Thomas. You came
here through Mr. Gundani. Welcome
I was welcomed. I was given food. I was given a place to sleep for the evening.
And then we sat and he spoke English and he spoke Tsonga. They speak Ronga
here, so we were able to converse. And then he had elderly sons, daughters one
of whom is married to the former minister Oldemiro Baloi, so that is how I came to
meet Oldemiro Baloi. I told him what was happening in South Africa. The problems
that we have. The students’ uprising. The problems I found myself in. And here I
was. He was very, very perturbed and at the same time did not know what to do
with me.
Within a week, I took out the money that I had and said: Look, this is all the money
I have with me. I had lots of escudos, because I changed everything I had at the
airport. He said: No, we don’t need your money. You are my guest. But after a
week he came to me and said: Tom, we have a problem with accommodation. I
can’t keep you for long here. I have a big family, so the space that you are
occupying belongs to my daughter. She had just come for holidays. So he said, I
am taking you further to stay with other members of Gundani’s family.
He moved out of the luxurious apartment in Mahlangalene into the canhico, an open
space next to the University where the houses were made of reeds. The family which took
him only spoke Ndau. So obviously there were communication problems, but
nevertheless Tommy was overwhelmed by their hospitality. It was a one bedroom house,
and Tommy was asked to sleep in the bed. The husband was working at hotel Polana. It
was hard times in Mozambique with scarcity of food but when he woke up the first
morning there was hot bread for breakfast and tea. The wife had gotten up to stay in the
line for bread and during the day she prepared some fish
But a young man, Antonio Mapinguisse, saw the problem that this family was facing
because they were staying in a reed house, and it could not accommodate all. He was
staying alone close by, became friends with Tommy and offered him to come and stay
with him. He was a student while he was also working and Tommy accepted the offer
and moved in with him.
Tommy: In November. I reached the point of highest nostalgia. I remember it was
Saturday in the evening. I was alone in this shack. It was hot. Antonio was not
there. I cried my lungs out. I asked myself: Why did I come here? This place
seemed alien. I had no identity or relations with it. I felt I was homesick. I could
smell the food. I could smell the atmosphere of home. I could imagine my brothers.
I could imagine what they would be doing at that time in the evening. I was missing
the environment of my family. I cried like a baby. I cried. I really, really cried.
And then I decided that I would take a walk. I walked all the way down town. At
Scala where people were sitting outdoors. They were drinking warm milk in those
tall glasses. They had coffee called galão and bolo de arroz (rice cake). I sat there
I should think it was from eight o’clock until midnight. I sat out there. And then
when everybody was coming out of the movie, I also followed them. You know, I
was part of the crowd that was moving. And I remember we were coming along
56
Vladimir Lenine before 33 floors was built. That steep slope passing Radio
Mozambique, going up. Right, all the way Vladimir Lenine towards where now we
have Coop, and I turned left to join Rua da Resistência at that road there towards
home. Home. I call it home, because that is where I was staying. And I came there.
It was a bit after midnight and Antonio was not here, because he was part of
Mozambique. He knew how life was going. So I went to sleep. But that...that...I
remember that vividly because...it remains something that I will never forget.
Towards the end of November he was told by a friend of Mr. Gundani’s that he should go
to the, Sede do Partido of Frelimo, then they would be able to help. He met Josefate
Machel and explained what had happened. He was happy to have a young South African
here. A revolutionary, and said he was going to introduce Tommy to his brother and also
to put him in contact with the ANC.
When Tommy came back to him in the first week of December 1976 Josefate said that
the president had asked him to be introduced to the Minister of Agriculture. There was a
big need for educated people to help in the reconstruction of our country.
They went to see the Minister, Joaquin de Carvalho who after a long interesting
discussion asked Tommy to help in a poultry project in Machava outside Maputo that the
Portuguese had left. Frelimo was looking for people with a bit of economics and of
finances to run the place. He would get people working there. With the chicken farm was
also a big house where Tommy could stay. And obviously Tommy accepted the offer.
Tommy: Life started shaping up. And he said to me: Look, there are South
Africans here, in the Ministry. And I said: Well, I don’t know them. It was Helena
Dolny and Ed Wetli. So I met them and it was... I was a little bit not comfortable
meeting white people, taking into account the background, and the punishment I
had in the hands of whites who were South Africans. So I was not comfortable, I
was not sure as to how they came to be in Mozambique, when in South Africa they
did not treat Blacks so well. Who were the special South Africans who were here?
We had a what you may call casual contact.
And I was also afraid of my own safety. I was not sure, but what was comforting
was the fact that I was in Mozambique and I didn’t think something bad would
happen to me. And then I went to see Josefate again to tell him that I was given a
job, and he said:’ I have already made contact with the ANC. You have to see Mr.
Lennox Lagu who is the representative of the ANC in Mozambique, and then
indeed they drove me to Rua Pereira de Aça off Mao Tse Tung where I met
Lennox. I told him who I was and he started writing, talking, talking. And then I
went to the UNHCR, registered myself. That was the beginning. Then later he said
to me: There is a comrade who would like to see you also. I didn’t know who it
was.
The beginning of December I packed my things, thanked the family that I was
staying with. It was emotional goodbyes, but I knew that I was within the country,
so I packed my things and then left for Machava. They told me that transport would
come and pick me up where I was staying.
57
That was the Ministry of Agriculture
They took me to Machava, to this Aviario Paulo with magnificent installation.
beautiful house. new. brand new. It was never used. It had five bedrooms, a
beautiful pool, manicured gardens. They had about 20.000 birds. There are FOUR
houses in the farm. The one that belonged to the owner of the farm. There was
one for his sons. There was one also, double storey, on the other side. So I
occupied the one that was occupied by his elder son. Right at the centre of the
poultry.
And then I started understanding what were the issues I needed to address. For
the first time I have a salary. I have a house. I have a roof and I had information
that my father was coming to Mozambique in December. Through the grape-vine.
Because I kept in contact with the family when I was staying with, the Gundanis.
Indeed, that happened. My father came in December. We met. It was emotional.
He told me that everybody is fine and he was amazed that I had a good
accommodation. He stayed with me in the farm.
Then I met Zuma. Just before the new year. 1976 December. Here is this man,
with a little bit of baldness that is receding. We had a chat, and he told me that he
was also responsible for the ANC in Maputo. He asked me a number of questions.
We had a long chat. I was not subjected to some questioning, interrogation. It was
a flowing discussion about my involvement in South Africa. And then he said, he
would be interesting in knowing where I was staying. In the process he introduced
to me the late... Little John. He died four, five years back. The late husband to
Totsie Mamela...and then also the current Chief of Staff of the South African
Defence Force, Siphiwe Nyanga, Guebuza.
Zuma came in a Volkswagen. The famous VW that he was driving. He came to the
farm late in the evening. We started talking. Talking. Talking. Talking. About the
struggle. And by then I started having....because I was on my own in a farm. I had
this passion of writing poems. That is when I started writing poetry. That was
something that kept me alive. I remember at one point thinking that had I not
started writing I would have gone insane. Because I had nobody as company
there.
In December 1976 I met Alpheus Manghezi at a Christmas party or New Years
Part, at Frederick Engels. I have a vivid recollection that we met and talked.
Like Tommy my husband, Alpheus Manghezi, arrived in Maputo towards the end of
1976. He had already spent 16 years in exile and had after finishing his social worker
training in South Africa gone abroad where he had finished his studies as a sociologist.
He too was lonely when he arrived. The rest of his family, me and our three children
were only due at the end of the school year in June 1976.
Tommy: Then I started working. Life was shaping up now. There was some South
African community. Weekends I would spend in Maputo either with Helena and Ed
or with Paul Jourdan, a geologist. They were staying in the so-called Commune
there. I had my bed also in the Commune. It was convenient to come and stay with
58
them over the weekend. . I was the centre stage of everybody there. Everybody
saying here is a South African who was involved in the Soweto Uprising. There
was Paul Jourdan. There was Barry Munslow. There was Diana. There was Neil.
There was Iain Christie. There was Frances.
A mainly British group of people with Marxist outlooks dedicated to the future of
revolutionary Mozambique and spiced with the European brand of communal spirit they
created the ‘Commune in Avenida Friedrich Engels’. This place became a meeting point
for many foreigners.They adhered to the same slogans, were against imperialism and the
US’ war in Vietnam etc. etc., but they were also inspired by the culture of flower-power
with new ideals about sex-life, living style, and women’s emancipation in its crudest
form. Individually, they were of big support to Mozambique, in two ways, the direct
filling up of gaps in this new country and the sending back the messages about life in
Mozambique to Europe which often contradicted the official western view. But their
lifestyle and cultural values could not have been more different from Frelimo’s, who was
in her most moralistic times. No holding hands in the streets. Respect for women not
sharing of partners. Dignity not shabbiness. In many ways Frelimo was supporting all the
values which in the mouth of the ‘liberated’ European cooperantes were ‘bourgeois’
values.
It was into this mixture that not only Tommy but other ANC comrades found their home
and the political allies who would do anything to support the struggle against apartheid.
And the young Sowetans with their township background found more resemblance to this
environment than to Frelimo’s moralistic dedication. While ANC got its money and its
weapon from the Eastern Bloc and many top level discussions took place between ANC
leaders and leaders of these countries, it was amongst the Western cooperantes that ANC
found those who were willing to host the guerrillas, hide weapons, transport literature,
people or arms inside the country.
Tommy: Life was buoyant. But I never forgot the contacts I had with the family that
hosted me here, the Gundani family. Because the situation was becoming
completely tough for the Mozambicans, every weekend I would take eggs and take
two chicken to go and give to this family, to whom up till now I still feel gratitude.
Because they didn’t know who I was. I had no relations with them, but the warmth
of the Mozambican people is really expressed in the form in which they received
me. I had this obligation on me that every time I come to Maputo I would go and
drop eggs and one or two chicken, because I had the right, working there, to a
number of chicken per week to eat. I would not eat all of it, I would take some to
the people who needed it bad.
And then, I should think it was in early 77 while I was still working there, Mr.
Moshothola came to Mozambique, Mr. Chambale. They were staying in
Sommershield, so the bond of relationship that we had in the South African
struggle meant that also every weekend when I came to Maputo, I would carry
some eggs, I would carry some things. I would stay there overnight and spend time
with them. We maintained that relationship. So I have known this family for a long
time. They were family friends. It was another family coming in, building the blocks
of relationships.
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Comrade Zuma told me that there were students coming here in 1977. He didn’t
know how many they were, but they would be coming towards the end of the year
1977. I indicated to him that my interest is not to continue working here, I wanted
to study.
And then I indicated to the Minister, later, while I was working there, that I want to
go to school. And he said: that’s fine. The government of Mozambique will assist in
that respect, and I informed him that I was already registered with the UN, with
UNEPSA, United Nation Education and Training Programme for Southern Africa.
So they said they would give me a scholarship.
Mid year 1977 while I had already registered with the University to study
Portuguese I met Katupha who later became the minister of Culture. We were
going on the same bus to the University and he was the one who was going to
teach us Portuguese. And I met the late president of the Malawi Socialist Party,
Attati Mpakati. We commuted together in the bus to the University. So I knew a
little bit about the struggles of the people of Malawi.
His world was opening.
It had been a tough time for Tommy to arrive in Moçambique and start to accept his new
life, turn towards the future.
What about Sertorio?
He had been in Moçambique. He spoke the language…. and he had some relatives and
settled with a great-uncle, Cassimiro Mate in Chamanculo until the parents came some
months later, at the end of January 1977. They immediately set out to look for a house.
Sertorio: Samora’s brother, Josefate, was the person in charge. So every
Mozambican who came then and wanted to settle in Maputo, or had problems, or
wanted to do something, did that through the Sede do Partido da Frelimo… in
Avenida de Angola. All of us came through that. Even the permission to look for
houses were signed by Josefate in Avenida de Angola, so that when we go to
A.P.I.E. (the State Enterprise for Housing) we just showed that letter from Sede do
Partido and then we could go around and look for a house...
They just told us: Go anywhere. Pick your house. Come back to A.P.I.E and say
which house you want. In our case, we had three keys. Because my father said:
we want Polana or Sommershield. One was a house in Polana. And two from
Sommershield. We went to the Polana house. We didn’t like it. It was oldish. It
wasn’t as new. We came to the one here on Rua Dom Carlos. We looked at it. It
was almost new. Abandonned by the Portuguese. We liked it. We went to another
one in Av. do Zimbabwe. It was very big. More than we thought we could ...use, so
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we decided to opt for the Sommershield one. So the same afternoon, we went
back to APIE with the three keys and said, we prefer Rua Dom Carlos. And then
we signed a contract, and that’s how we got it.
That was how it worked. There was an abundance of vacant houses, and obviously many
of them were very nice, having belonged to the Portuguese elite.
We met the Chambale’s soon after our arrival. I still remember coming to their house in
Rua Dom Carlos. The ground floor hand the dining and sitting room. Behind it the
enormous kitchen. The two front rooms were virtually empty. All life was in the kitchen
and in the back yard. It was full of ducks and rabbits. And Mrs. Chambale also used some
of the empty areas which actually belonged to the University compound as her
machambas, the word we all used for a vegetable garden. Relatives were sitting on mats
or busy in the kitchen preparing for all the guests that were always in the house. A big
store room which sometimes had food in it. I rarely went upstairs, but on a few occasions
I saw the four big bedrooms, and realised that there was yet another floor. Mostly used
for hanging laundry, and I have the vision of many cupboards built into the wall. Up here
I also vaguely realised that there was a lot of life. This big house catered for Sertorio, his
father and mother, his two sisters, Lucrencia and Olga, and two grandchildren from South
Africa (Angelina´s) and many more people that were mostly introduced as relatives. I
later got to understand who they were.
A new chapter opened for Sertorio. Here in Maputo he started working as a teacher. That
is where our roads met. I was working at the Ministry of Education in the English section.
We were desperate to get new teachers, because until now French had been the main
foreign language in the Portuguese schools. . From the time of Independence English was
introduced as the main foreign language because all the surrounding countries were
English speaking, but we didn’t have books for the new system, nor syllabi… nor
teachers. Sertorio spoke English, but needed some teaching skills, and he started working
at the Industrial School under my supervision.
I still remember that there was something strange about his attitude and I discussed with
my superior, Elizabeth Meneses, whether we should employ him or not. . As if he was
not really interested.
Only now, very recently, did he tell me why he did not jump on the teacher idea very
easily:
Sertorio: The truth is, whilst in Mozambique, once through Josefate’s office, we
were identified as potential cadres for this country, because this country needed
people who spoke English. And I was here, and I knew a few people who were
already here, and our names were sent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as
potential candidates for positions in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, because of our
English and Shangaan...
... I was still waiting to be called to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The problem was
that there was a lot of bureaucracy. I had to be interviewed by different people
there. I was interviewed by two people in the Ministry. I came back home, waited,
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waited, waited. While I was waiting, words went around that there is a person who
can teach English.
That is how I received a letter from the Ministry of Education that you must now
come for an interview. I then went and met Elizabeth Meneses, and ended up
going to Escola Industrial, but I was only there for a week, then I was transferred to
Beira.
While Sertorio was now in a job and had a career in front of him, it was more difficult for
his father. Yes, he was given a house, but for the rest, things were not that automatic.
Once you had got a house, you were left on your own to fight your way. The government
could not just be responsible for everybody, and they left the responsibility to the person
to start looking for a job. And that is when the Chambale family realised that they were in
difficulties, because financially, although he had brought a lot of money and they were
able to live for the first few months, there came a time, when he really had to find a job.
The daughter, Lucrencia was also waiting. So although Sertorio would have wanted to
continue studying, he simply had to start earning money…. for the whole family.
He went to discuss it with Lennox :
Sertorio: He said everything was possible, but one thing which was very important
for the ANC was that people like myself, who had very close links with
Mozambique and who could survive in Mozambique had to try by all means to stay
in Mozambique, and to keep a low profile. That was Lennox’ advice, because,
these were the people that the ANC was going to use. Low profile meant that you
had to get into the Mozambican society and be part of it. And nobody should really
see the connections that you had to the ANC. And that is how we worked things
out, because once I started working, and once the old man also started working,
we began the activities, we continued in fact, we didn’t start, we continued the
activities with the ANC. This time from Mozambique. to South Africa.
As we have seen: a lot of students headed for Swaziland as a result of the Soweto
uprising in 1976. And from there with Stan Mabizela’s help many of them went on to
Mozambique. Lennox’ first overwhelming task was to receive all these young people. He
was not the official representative of the ANC yet, but he was the focal point both for
those that came, and for the Mozambican authority, and even for the Embassies that soon
after Independence began to get accredited in the new country. Lennox remembers with
laughter how impossible the situation was. In a little green beetle VW he drove to the
Swazi border, sometimes he had to drive two and three times in the middle of the night,
when groups of South Africans had jumped the fence waiting to be taken to Maputo and
be looked after by the ANC. He then, at the same time, had to run to the Embassies to beg
food, petrol, medical kits etc.
The first flat he got was turned into the ANC office. Well protected, off Av. Mao-Tse
Tung next to the military zone.
The situation in the country was that of optimism
62
On the famous III Congress of Frelimo in February 1977, the party announced that they
were a marxist-leninist party. Based on the socialist ideas they set out to transform the
country. The country was to rely on its agriculture as the basis for developing its industry.
Or said in the terminology of the time: Agriculture was the basis of the economy.
Industry was the dynamising factor. As a matter of fact at Independence Mozambique
was the eighth most industrialised country in Africa and amongst its industries were some
important ones like the steel factory in Lourenco Marques, and to run its industries they
had coal and they had Cabora Bassa.
A National Planning Commission was established. And a two fazed plan was soon
elaborated. The first had the goal of achieving the level of the best Portuguese years,
namely 1973 at the year 1980. The next was to complete the transformation in a Ten Year
plan where the big agricultural as well as industrial projects. It was on line with this plan,
that donors began to appear. A few western donors. But basically the East European
comrades. This became a disgrace. The anecdotes about the huge Bulgarian tomato
machines, the Soviet corn harvesters that could not be of any use under Mozambican
climatic conditions are many and true. Including the failure of Frelimo’s own people who
often did not have neither knowledge nor theory, only their political correctness. The ten
year plan despite a lot of talk and propaganda never really got off the ground.
The two sectors where Frelimo was very successful was in Education and Health. The
children started coming to school in masses. During the first years the conditions were
very poor. Schools were under a tree, the primitive schoolbooks were shared amongst
many children (but the text was oh so politically correct). Literacy and Adult Education
was expanded all over the country under the slogan ‘Let us turn the whole country into a
school where everyone learns and everyone teaches.’ Unfortunately the latter was mostly
done in form of campaigns by students during their holidays which in the longer run was
not sustainable. If in hindsight we should criticize some of the mistakes in those first year
was that everything had to be taught in Portuguese not in the local language, the reason
being that we are creating a united nation, and the second reason of course being that it
would be too costly in terms of school material and teacher training. The then Minister of
Education and only woman in the government was a young woman, Graça Machel, wife
of the president. She had herself realised - now years later - that this was a mistake, and
fortunately a lot of work is now done to develop education in the local languages.
The health sector was not only successful but extraordinary and acclaimed by WHO as an
example of how a developing country could face their health problems. It was
particularly within the public sector that Mozambique won its battles. Young doctors
were sent all over the countryside with vaccination campaigns and public information. A
list of medicine was written up which abolished all types of unnecessary trade marks and
only one was sold within each area. Health posts were set up all over the country and
quick courses performed so as to enable every place to cover the ordinary diseases. And
women started going to the health posts or small hospitals to give birth.
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The enthusiasm was high. The self confidence also.
The hatred to the racist South Africa and Rhodesia was incontestable.
The sympathy and support with the ANC and with ZANU-ZAPU was total.
And the international supporters from Europe began to pour in supported by
organisations in their country which recruited them and financed them. They felt needed.
They were needed. They tried to fill in some of the gaps that the fleeing Portuguese had
left. As was the cooperantes sent from the Eastern countries. Although the Western
supporters had been chosen partly for their political affiliations or attitudes, there was
little communication between the Easterners and the Westerners.
Sertorio was now posted in Beira to work as an English teacher and there was not much
for him to do as an ANC person. After some time his father back in Maputo also found a
job. He started working as a driver, first with the Soviet Embassy and later with the
Swedes.
Sertorio liked being an English teacher. But he missed his links to South Africa and was
happy, when after a couple of years a British-South African couple, Ruth and Mike
Muller appeared on the Beira arena. He convinced Ruth to become a teacher at his
school. Mike worked as head of the water sector in the Department of Public Works and
was the Provincial Responsible for Water which had previously been a private company,
but had been nationalised by the government at Independence. Mike and Ruth arrived in
Mozambique in 1979 with their one year old child. Ruth was British from a communist
family and she herself was very active in anti-imperialist movements like the MAGIC
solidarity group in support of Mozambique, Angola, and Guinea Bissau and Cabo Verde.
Mike was the son of a South African trade union movement couple who had had to move
to Swaziland for some years because of their political activities in South Africa. His
mother was a lawyer and had defended many cases of Unionists and ANC members.
The strange thing – which was virtually impossible in the racially segregated South
Africa, Sertorio and Mike found out that they had a common ‘relative’, a man called
Edmund Cindi who was a very active East Rand Unionist working with his father and
therefore close to the family. When he told Sertorio about Cindi, Sertório answered: But
this man is my Uncle.
In Beira Mike had to do everything for himself. There were very few colleagues, very
little support staff, no materials, hard conditions. When he, nine years later returned to
South Africa, he had learned his trade and was now well equipped to his position as
Director General of Water Affairs, first under Kadar Asmal then under Ronnie Kasril.
They had arrived in Beira at the worst of all times.
Ken Flower - the director-general of the Rhodesian Central Intelligence Organization
(CIO) - had since 1973 tried to sponsor a rebel force within Mozambique because of
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Frelimo’s offensive against the Portuguese in Tete Province. Its role should be to gather
information about Frelimo and about ZANLA. His plans were frustrated by the
independence of Mozambique in 1975 but then revived because of Frelimo’s hostility
towards Rhodesia. The CIO now decided to create a clandestine movement inside
Mozambique consisting of disgruntled Portuguese who had lost property, had been
members of the Portuguese Intelligence Service DGS, had been members of right wing
military troops known as the Flechas (the arrows) or of ex Frelimo activists who had
turned against the Movement. (Interesting enough three arrows are placed in the insignia
of the present RENAMO).
The core group of this fifth column consisted of people who had crossed the border to
Rhodesia after Independence and offered their services to the CIO. On the 7th of
September 1974 when the settlers tried the above mentioned in Lourenco Marques and
seized the Radio Station, other groups in Beira, Nampula, Tete, and Quelimane echoed
the revolt, but had to withdraw when the others failed. In 1976 a man called André
Matsangaissa also arrived in Rhodesia. An ex-Frelimo commander, who had been sent to
a Reeducation Camp for stealing from Frelimo and had therefore defected to the
neighboring country. He was given the leadership of the core group which was therefore
in Mozambique called the ‘Matsangaissa’. The official words were many, but it soon
became known as MNR or RNM (Resistencia Nacional Mocambcana) which later
develped into RENAMO. The Rhodesian Special Air Service (SAS) started training the
Mazangaissas in sabotage, disruption of economy, recruitment, attacking Frelimo bases.
Afonso Dhlakama who had been trained by the Portuguese military, became second in
command. Evo Fernandes, the voice of MNR in Europe and later secretary-general made
no secret about their intentions: ‘The objectives of the MNR are essentially to provide the
opportunity for Rhodesia to deal with ZANLA in Mozambique without doing so directly
and to perpetuate or create instability in areas of Mozambique.’
In 1976 Mozambique decided to close its borders with Rhodesia and to support the
liberations struggle. This decision which it never broke, came to be very expensive for
Mozambique, because Mozambique was developed to be a service country for Rhodesia
with the Beira harbour, the rail, the road and the oil pipe line via Chimoio to Salisbury.
The decision came to cost Mozambique one third of their foreign currency revenu.
In 1978 MNR set up the Gorongosa camp. About 400 MNR were moved from Rhodesia
to open the new base. Commanded by Matsangaisa. When he was killed a year later in
Vila Gorongosa Afonso Dhlakama was flown to the base the next day and given the
functions as the Movements leader.
The time until Zimbabwe’s Independence in 1980 and in several years after was a terrible
time. Not only in terms of foreign currency, but in human lives. Constant bomb raids,
Constant electricity cuts. The road from Beira to Chimoio barely usable.
Ruth was expecting their second baby. Just a few days before time was up there was a
major sabotage of electricity. She decided to have him at home. It would simply have
65
been too risky to venture on the roads to get to the hospital, and too unsafe to stay at the
hospital without water and light. Mike tells
Mike: That sabotage incident was also interesting in another way. I got a phone
call at 11.30 PM to say that the water pipeline from Mafambisse had been blown
up, and I instructed everybody to go back to sleep and out at 6 AM, because we
could not do anything before then. It was good management decision, because the
Renamo people had stayed until four in the morning holding motorists (even now
Mike is influenced by the Portuguese language) who came past and destroying
their vehicles. They were possibly hoping to kidnap me and the staff like they had
done quite a lot of recently with others. The water was sabotaged a few more
times after that and every time we got better and quicker at fixing it.
It is interesting to hear Mike’s views on this period. Like all of us, he emphasises the
overwhelming commitment, enthusiasm, hopes, of the Mozambicans. He even thinks that
the fact that he and his family were never ill is due to the scarcity of food. The menu was
often beans and rice, vegetables and fish, chicken sometimes and very little meat. A
minimum, a sufficient minimum is probably very healthy. But Mike is also very clear that
already then the bad sides of Mozambique were showing their face:
Mike: We were often too rosy about Mozambique. Mozambique was a very harsh
police state and they had people picked up by the security police accused of things
they did not do, who were clearly tortured, who came out months later without
teeth, losing all their weight. I have seen Frelimo soldiers beating up a teenage
woman in a village FOR FUN.
We sometimes forget that there were some very bad sides to Mozambique and if
you were not looking out for it… and were more protected… you would not
necessarily see them….
One learns a lot. The danger of driving the country on ideas and the idealism of
lots of people. What was so wonderful about Mozambique at the time, was
precisely the ideas and the idealism of lots of people. You learned about the
importance of mobilisation and voluntarism. One learned about the dangers of the
structures who practised that. Many people got very pissed off with those who said
that there are problems in Mozambique. There was very visible abuse of power.
Many of the comrades were too rosy and didn’t want to look for the truth. Belief is
very important, very mobilising, but can also be very dangerous.
One comrade was very rosy, very emotional and nearly sentimental about Mozambique.
But he also reckoned the negative sides of Independent Mozambique and tried by all
means to look for the truth:
Albie Sachs arrived in Mozambique about the same time as Tommy. But for him Maputo
meant something totally different. Whereas Tommy slowly had to climb up from a sense
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of desperation and utter loneliness, Albie, from the moment he stepped on Mozambican
soil was feeling elated and free. To follow Albie’s description of the four stages of his
life in Mozambique: His recuperation, his love, his professional and his political life
gives us a very clear, although subjective picture of Mozambique until he left the country
in 1988, victim of a failed attempt on his life.
Albie: Mozambique for me involved all the great dramas of life: courage, love,
despair, near death, recovery ... even a sense of triumph. It wasn’t just another
place where I happened to spend years in exile. The intensity of my life there at
moments was a powerful interaction between the drama of Mozambique, the
drama of South Africa and the intimate drama of me, Albie Sachs.
When I first set foot on Mozambican soil, I was working at Dar es Salaam
University as a visiting lecturer. It was 1976. It was just after the Soweto uprising.
Mozambique was one year into its independence. I am not sure if ‘Maputo’ was not
still ‘Lourenco Marques’ then. And lots of the street names were the old colonial
names, almost impossible to read, pronounce and remember.
And I recall, as I got off the plane and put my feet on the tarmac, I felt a sense of
total joy. I was not only back in Africa, because I had been back to Africa. I had
been in Dar es Salaam at the University..But now I was back in Southern Africa.
And I saw the sign post saying in Portuguese: Liberated Zone of Humanity. I saw a
Frelimo soldier with a gun, with an AK 47. I have never really liked guns. But this
was different. This was a gun that had been used to fight oppression, fight
colonialism. I just wasn’t used to seeing a black person in a uniform, guarding
Freedom, and doing so representing a new power. It was also the light, a Southern
African light. A tropical light. The red soil. The bush. Things that you don’t
consciously remember. Not quite like South Africa, but not too distant, and
certainly much closer than anything in England or even in Dar es Salaam.
I was then a visitor at the University. The leadership of the University came from
the radical staff largely but not exclusively Whites, mostly Mozambican born or
grown up in Mozambique. Passionate supporters of Frelimo. In most cases their
parents, their siblings had gone to Portugal or South Africa. They had stayed on in
Mozambique. That was a commitment. A personal and ideological, existential
commitment. They hated being called Portuguese. They found ways of very firmly
saying: We are Mozambican. It was a very powerful affirmation of a new M.
identity. They loved Samora Machel. They all told stories about knowing somebody
who had been in the armed struggle, wishing to identify themselves with the
present liberation.
I was struck by the strong intellectual quality of the statements made by the
Frelimo leadership, the level of debate at the University on current political
questions.It wasn’t simply a question of picking up socialist revolutionary ideas
developed in other parts of the world, Soviet Union, China, Cuba and applying
them to Mozambique. These were ideas that had developed in the course of fierce
struggles not only against Portuguese colonialism and all the support that Portugal
got from NATO and from the West and very strongly from South Africa and Iain
Smith in Rhodesia, but quite fierce internal battles inside Frelimo. This is what was
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new for me and the victory of what was referred to as the Progressive Line as
against the narrow nationalist line.
The key question was how do you define the enemy. Is the enemy a race or is it a
system of oppression? And it affected a whole vision of what the struggle was
about. It wasn’t simply a metaphysical question... a question of being morally good
or morally bad. It affected the people whom you drew into the struggle; the concept
of what the struggle was about, and very much the nature of the society that you
envisaged.
Frelimo had begun to live out the values of the new philosophy, and this did an enormous
amount for him personally. When he went into exile in 1966, the detention and solitary
confinement, the destruction of the Movement, the Rivonia trial, the torture in prison, the
statement that saved him in court but completely humiliated him had finished him. The
courage of his partner, Stephanie, who left South Africa just after him had taken a terrible
knock.They married in London, but whereas Stephanie's courage recovered quite quickly,
and although they were soon in an everyday life with their two sons, Albie had
difficulties in regaining his old spirit. He was active, both in his antiapartheid work, antiVietnam marches, anti-pro Zimbabwean activities, and with his PhD and a lot with the
children. He had two-three books published. You could say he was very active. And first
and foremost he was always present at ANC meetings where everybody would sing
Nkosi sikelele and raise their fists and shout "Amandla". But Albie's arm never came up.
His fist the only one out of the hundreds which stayed down. He never felt that sense of
affirmation.
Albie: I think it was about a week after I came on this visit to Mozambique I went
to the football stadium. And it was the Armed Forces’ Day, the day on which the
armed struggle had been launched, September 25th 1964. - We knew all these
dates - There were 60.000 people there. Great excitement. Samora Machel comes
up, and I am seeing him now, at a distance, for the first time. And he starts of with
a VIIIIIIIIIIIVA. Somebody has to explain to me what the slogans mean. And it was
LONG LIVE THE PEOPLE OF MOZAMBIQUE UNITED FROM ROVUMA TO
MAPUTO. And 60.000 arms go up into the air. Including mine. It just happened.
My courage came back. You know, it was lifted up by Mozambique. It is something
I have never forgotten. Years later things happened that could drive one crazy with
frustration. But for me personally, the Mozambican Revolution and Independence
gave me back my courage.
Albie ends his description of his recuperation about one Sunday morning in Maputo
where he was participating in a session of Voluntary work near the Harbour on one of the
national holidays. He had had problems finding the harbour, at the bottom of Maputo
tucked away and unable to ask for direction since he did not speak Portuguese at this
time. So he arrives late.
Albie:I arrived late. I am feeling embarrassed. But eventually I see a very kind of...
varied motley group of people who are just finishing sweeping up the quay side
making it spotlessly clean with big brooms. And very kindly somebody gave me a
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broom just in time so that I could do my five minutes of voluntary work. We then
had speeches. I am not sure if there is an interpreter into English or I stood next to
somebody who interpreted for me. The first speaker was a black dock worker who
was really in charge of the proceedings and he started off saying: let us discuss
the significance of this occasion. He started off with some VIVAs: Viva, o povo
unido mocambicano do Rovuma a Maputo. Long live the people of M. united from
Rovuma in the North to Maputo in the South. All go Viva. Viva Internacionalismo
Proletário. Long live Proletarian Internationalism. It was very relevant to that
particular day, because you had people from all over the world. Viva. - Viva a
Emancipacao da Mulher. Long live the Emancipation of Women. Viva. - Viva a
pontualidade Long live punctuality. And there was not any embarrassment in
bringing in that little kind of a thing. And then he said: Let us find out all the
different countries, that you are from. Someone’s hand would go up. Brazil.
Brasilia. And there is a viva for Brazil. And then German Democratic Republic.
Serious face. Very strong vivas. GDR was heavily involved with Mozambique.
Then hen Italy. And Italy people smile again. And then United Kingdom, England.
Quite firm support for England. Portugal. They would send stormy applause for
Portugal. Specially significant, Portugal having been the colonial oppressors, and
now the Portuguese are there working side by side with black dock workers,
mainly black dock workers, supporting the M. revolution.
I am feeling terribly awkward. What do I do? Do I pretend...do I pretend that I was
part of the English group and just let it go? Anyway we are running out of people.
There weren’t many people from Africa. Maybe from Zambia. Strong support for
Zambia. United States. Very powerful Viva. Everybody giving a great big cheer.
And then lot of European countries. Sweden. And Holland. Definitely from France.
Bulgaria. And now I must make up my mind. And I put up my hand and say Africa
do Sul. South Africa. By then I had learned at least to say Africa do Sul. And
straight away. Straight away, the guy says :Viva a luta justa do povo oprimido do
Africa do Sul. Long live the just struggle of the oppressed people of South Africa. It
was a great moment for me. If I got my courage back in a kind of physical sense
with the vivas before, this gave me a kind of political courage back. Here this was
Frelimo at its most wonderful and best. Spontaneous. Total acceptance. I
remember we took a train from the docks back to somewhere in town. And we
were all singing on the train and drumming our feet. It was like passing through a
dream world. People were waving to us, giving salutes and vivas. It was a
spectacular moment of international solidarity, a sense of identification with this
country fighting for its independence. And I should mention, there were lot of
Chileans there. Lot of Latin Americans who were also in exile. This was the
country where they felt welcome, where they felt active.
Albie had not been happy in the UK. Both for him and his wife Stephanie it meant misery
and unhappiness. Totally overwhelmed by personal tasks of raising two young kids, do
the work, do the political work, write a book (on Sexism) while she would decipher
letters from the underground in secret codes and secret ink. They had married in London.
They were totally committed to their political work. But could not make it as a family.
Albie: And suddenly I am in a world, where literally the sun is shining. The
beautiful flowering blossoming trees where I am walking everywhere. There is
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hardly any traffic. In this heavy world of revolution, transformation, change and
meeting people from all. Back in the African setting. The light. The thunder in the
sky. The night stars. All the things that one had forgotten but were there in your
semi-consciousness, as part of your memory. And just the sheer freedom of not
being unhappy all the time was tremendous.
After that first visit, Albie returned a year later to work at the Eduardo Mondlane
University in Maputo. The idea was that Stephanie would come with the children. The
tickets were issued, but were never used. It was over. From now on she was leading her
life in London and Albie was leading his life in Mozambique.
He met Fatima at the University Residence, the SELF, where also Tommy and Alpheus
lived. She arrived there about the same time as him. Born in Portugal but brought up in
Mozambique and studied in Portugal. Her English was good. She knew her way around
Maputo where you could buy this or that, where you could see art. When Albie offered to
look after her children as a babysitter she was doubly suspicious. She couldn’t imagine
that any man would genuinely volunteer. She said afterwards she was sure he was from
the CIA. Through him she met ANC people and in particular she became very friendly
with Indres Naidoo. Albie bought an old Peugeot from Ruth First. He needed a car, but
couldn’t afford to buy it. Fatima also needed a car, so they shared the costs of the car, and
they shared the use of the car.
She would tell him lots of stories about pre-independence Mozambique. Through Fatima
he got to know some of those who had decided not to leave the country and who were
carrying the culture of the Portuguese elite. Played bridge with them, shared gossip or
discussed a film or music. These were wonderful hours off. It was through Fatima that he
first met that crowd.
Then he discovered that his interest for Fatima went beyond simply sharing a car.
It was the time of the food shortage. Food was rationed and it was an everyday exercise
to stand in lines to get bread, to get oil, to get rice, stables. Sometimes to get butter.
Sometimes to get meat, fish and vegetables at the market.
Albie: And suddenly, passionately, sick with love - all the details and ins and outs
are not part of this particular story - simply to say that for the first time in my life I
knew obsession. I don’t think it could have happened to me elsewhere. One’s
emotional life was so contained in other settings. Here everything was so open.
And there was so much chance and encounter and emotions were so open, and
different cultural styles and ways of expressing passion were so diverse, and
things, relationships could be established so immediately. That I could get a
charge out of just seeing the car. By then we had separated our cars. She had her
own car. And a relationship developed and broke up and it developed and it broke
up.-.
One day she brings a guy to see me. His name was Chris. She said to me
afterwards, she said: ‘It’s strange, Albie, you’ve got the very best and the very
worst in the MK.
70
Eventually she made it very clear to me, she was in love with an MK combatant.
This was really the great guy of her life.
She is saying she doesn’t want to see me. She doesn’t know for how long. It might
be for ever or for a few months. And I kind of understood that it depended on how
long Chris would live.
Some months passed, and I get a message from Fatima’s colleague at work: Chris
has been killed. Please, come and see Fatima. I go to her house. It turns out that
he has been ambushed by South African security in Swaziland. The car was
burned and she is absolutely distraught. She was screaming and screaming: Why
did it have to be Chris, why couldn’t it be you.
This was not the end of his relationship with Fatima. But it was the end of their love
story. They saw each other as friends and until to-day they still have a very strong and
meaningful feeling for each other although there is now long time between their
meetings.
But Albie is still open to new encounters. His next serious love story starts at the beach of
Costa do Sol north of Maputo. He would go sunbathing on Saturdays or Sundays. Making
up for those eleven years in England. He would take a beach chair, a cool bag, his beer,
some fruit and something to eat, quite a lot of stuff… like the painting of van Gogh of a
lonely figure with his easel and alone in the Universe with his shadow. He had a
particular spot that he liked very much where the river runs into the sea and creates a
lagoon.
The beach was a fascinating place in those days, because you would see people from all
over, and it became quite a sport to try and guess their nationality. Those from West
Germany used to be quite boisterous, and with a lot of things and one would notice them.
The Russians would come in big numbers, play their volley ball, organised. The Italians,
the Scandinavians. The sport consisted - just from the bathing costumes, the hair cuts, - of
spotting their nationality, and if not you would find some excuse to walk passed and hear
which language they were speaking. One became quite expert.
Albie loved the beach. It reminded him of Cape Town where he grew up near the beach.
At first it was only whites. A few people of mixed origins, Indian origin, and gradually
more and more black Mozambicans started coming to the beach usually late in the
afternoon on a Sunday.
It is in these very appropriate surroundings that he finds his next love to a Peruvian
woman, Lucia, a relationship that will last for many years.
Albie Sachs became a lecturer at the University Eduardo Mondlane’s Law Faculty in
1977. The faculty of Law was situated just outside the University Campus. It was quite
an elegant modern style building in Av. Kenneth Kaunda in one of the posh parts of
Maputo. Albie would walk from where he lived. The students were mostly working, so
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the lectures started at 7.30 and were on again in the late afternoon. He would be home at
7.00 in the evening. There were very few cars, and the traffic would be minimal.
Like so many others he stayed in a rather elegant flat, that had been abandoned by the
owners. There was hardly any furniture, hardly any cups and saucers, frequently no
curtains. There would be men and women cleaning and cooking and looking after the
place. Albie remembers how few cars were parked in the big parking lodge in front of the
University. In all other Universities around the world – including UEM now a days - the
biggest simple problem is parking not just for the lecturers but for all the students. Here
the professors came out, and they all had to push their cars and get students and workers
to help them, because there were no batteries.
He talks of his work as being both ‘enthralling’ and ‘as pitifully frustrating... not as you
can imagine... but beyond what you can imagine.’ Two sides of the coin. We cooperantes
basically all had the same mixture of experience as Albie with our jobs in Mozambique
regardless of where we worked.
Albie: We came from all over the world. We were all progressive, critical, left wing
legal intellectuals. But that was just the beginning. After that we disagreed on
everything. Even on how to mark examines. The amount of time we spent just on
whether you mark out of 1 to 5, 5 to 1, or 0 to 20. We got passionate. The one
Russian professor said they used to mark out of 20. Some one said: ‘Well, Karl
Marx would get 20 out of 20. Lenin would get 19 out of 20. The best student could
only get 18 out of 20. You never gave full marks.’ Someone else from somewhere
else would say:’ Why not giving full mark if the student is doing...’ It’s just a little
idea of how one could differ on philosophy, the meaning of law, the role of law, the
role of the state. I am sure it extended to education, to health, to just about
everything. Sometimes the students were rather disdainful towards me. My
Portuguese wasn’t all that good. And I didn’t slot in to the progressive, nearMarxist Portuguese’s very abstract way of presenting.
I had developed a totally different lecturing style in England much more based on
give-and-take, on questions-and-answers.. So I am feeling rather down at work,
isolated. I am picking up quite a lot of disdain about ANC as a bourgeois nationalist
organisation, general in politics. I find quite a lot of the cooperant community is
very critical of Frelimo in a way that I didn’t really appreciate. I felt they were not
engaging fully. They didn’t pick up the real drama of transformation in this country.
It was a transposed left critical kind of view. And they would get upset with me for
seeing me as a Frelimo apologist all the time.
Another problem which we also all encountered, not only at the University level, but at
many other levels was the formalities that reigned within the Portuguese culture.
Albie: I arrived there in 1977... I was called ‘Professor Albie’ in the Law Faculty in
the Eduardo Mondlane University. The question of titles is actually quite important.
Portuguese is a language much more formal, and I would say much more gracious
and nuanced in terms of interpersonal relationships than English, and the African
culture to the extent I understand, is even more nuanced and even more
respective of the dignity and position in life of the person with whom you are
72
communicating. So it was surfing strangely through the Portuguese language that I
discovered something about the African culture that had surrounded me since my
childhood. The compromise was not to follow what people would call the
demagogic populist approach of just calling me ‘Albie’. If you were a student or a
worker, there had to be some form of mode of address and the light Portuguese
term would have been Señor Doutor, even if you didn’t have a PhD. If you were
educated, and had a University degree you would be Señor Doutor or Señora
Doutora.
There was also a lot of discussion about the word ‘camarada’. You can imagine
when we arrived we all wanted to be camarada. It was getting out of the class
divisions, the barriers of race, of language, of culture. Comradeship was the
unifying factor. It was very uplifting and very warm in the early years. It was hugely
equalising. Whoever you were, your skin colour, your background, your degree of
learning, you were a comrade. And in a society where the role of the working class
and the peasantry is extolled, the term ‘comrade’ then was a term that said we are
not over influenced by the former class divisions of former Portuguese society nor
of the traditional rural society in which obedience had to be paid to the chief. We
loved to be called ‘comrade’, and we loved to call other people ‘comrade.’ The
concept of unity came through that.
So you can imagine our shock when a couple of years into working there Samora
Machel said: This term ‘comrade’ is being abused. It is being used all the time by
people who are not comrades... Samora was saying the term ‘comrade’ should be
used inside Frelimo, but in society in general, he said, what is wrong with the word:
Mister of Misses. And he gave the example of... a courtroom where the judge, or
the prosecutor would say: ‘ Will the comrade murderer please step forward.’
Most of the students had been through the seminaries, established by the Catholic
Church, but some had been to public schools in Maputo. Although most of the students
were overwhelmingly young, there were also people in their fifties who wanted to study
and who had never had a chance. This was their moment. And it was an impressive
group. Alive. Critical. All had been through the turmoil of the transformation. The black
students were exalted by the change and the sense of freedom, and the white students if
anything even more enthusiastic because they had made firm personal commitment not to
follow their families, not to go out of the country. To identify as Mozambicans.
Albie: I taught Family Law and International Law. I was very eager to develop an
International Law from the vantage point of a developing newly independent third
world country. And we were very proud to be third world. The term today has
become synonymous with underdeveloped, incapable, corrupt, banana republic.
For us Third World was affirmative. And when I developed a series of lectures,
afro-centred, drawing heavily on Mozambican experience of state creation, relation
with other states, there was a sense of total dismay from the students, including
the progressive ones, who felt that they weren’t getting the real thing.
Mozambique's experience with the new Popular Tribunals was fascinating. Albie tells
how they were set up to regulate Family Law. It used simple principles like equity and
fairness. Like sophisticated courts all over the world it would deal with divorces and how
73
to divide the property up in a fair way and in particular protect the economically
disadvantaged partner, usually the woman, and making sure that the children were
properly cared for.
A court consisted of people from the community. They operated for six months and were
using methods of dispute resolution at the community level with three or more locally
elected judges, always at least one woman. These judges were chosen by their
community, because of their standing, their integrity, their general wisdom, not the old
tribal elders, and not young comrades.
The popular tribunals could dissolve marriages, award custody of children, divide the
property. They didn’t have power to lock people up, and they didn’t have power to
impose physical punishments. They could impose small fines, but for violation of the
Criminal Law, the public peace and so on, the main sanction was to do useful community
service. And that emerged from the experience of the liberated zones.
Albie: They didn’t have prisons. They didn’t have prison officers. They
didn’t have a system of being able to control people, but it was also a
philosophical thing. It went deep into African dispute resolution culture.
The idea is to reintegrate persons concerned to the community not to
segregate them, and in the early years they had some spectacular
results. Even people who were sentenced by the higher courts to seven
years, ten years, fifteen years imprisonment for murder, for fraud and
so on, would go to open prisons. There was one large prison farm
between Maputo and Matola, and when you looked for it, you couldn’t
find it, because there were no walls around it, and you would have to
drive into the area and ask somebody. And he would say: I am a
prisoner, and he would direct you to the prison installations. Quite
literally. I still remember one of the prisoners there, who took a group of
us around, very proud of the maize, the mealies they were growing
there, and saying: There are people...and he was in for fraud, eleven
years of fraud... he says: the people of the neighbourhood, they are
really terrible. They just come in. They steel our maize. And he was
quite shocked. And in the early years, over half the persons serving
prison sentences were on local farms like that. It was in the pre-civil
war period. And it went together with that whole very optimistic penal
philosophy of encouraging people, to work, to have links with their
families. It was much cheaper. They were far more productive and to
the extent that the rehabilitation actually functioned it worked much
more effectively than locking people up in cells and humiliating them.
The Faculty of Law was one of the real renovations of the University that came with
Independence. Lawyers were seen as cadres, not as professionals aiming to become rich.
Albie felt proud of having been part of this process and sad, when a few years into
Independence the Faculty was again closed down, exactly because it ceased to fulfil this
political, socialist dimension.
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The ANC saw it as a great possibility to send some of their students who had left the
country in the vague of the Soweto uprising to this liberated University. A plan was
drawn up between the Mozambican and the ANC authority and the UNESCO to give the
South African youth who had had to interrupt their education for political reasons in their
own country the possibility to continue and be integrated by the neighbouring country’s
University Eduardo Mondlane.
They arrived towards the end of 1977 to start at the Academic Year of 1978.
When Tommy heard about this from Zuma, he was allowed to join the group coming
from abroad. He left his work in Machava outside Maputo - after having held a wonderful
party for his fellow students – and he moved in together with the newcomers at Self,
where together with the Mozambican students, they could live and have their meals. He
was going to start from afresh on his studies of economics.
The other students, 20 in all, were in different faculties doing different courses, Lebo
Education, Zama and Karrabo Engineering, others had to start on Preparatório becaused
they had not passed matric.
There were many problems, the first of them all was for the students to get admitted
because many of them had had to leave without their papers and had not been as wise as
Tommy who foresaw this problem and considered it the priority to get all the certificates
with him. Another problem was the language.
As students started failing their exams they began to misbehave. A disciplinary
Committee was set up in which both Albie, Alpheus and Zareena (from the ANC
Education Committee) tried to lead the students into a better behaviour. In vain. Oliver
Tambo got personally involved and was adamant that the students must continue. But to
no avail. After three years the last group was sent out. Of the whole group only Tommy
finished his studies and was employed by the Cashew Nut State Secretary. Everybody
else was sent to Tanzania without finishing their courses. A big opportunity wasted.
My own first reaction after having followed the drama on the side line was to think that
the ANC students were arrogant and felt superior to their Mozambican fellow students,
undisciplined and without the drive that a revolutionary must display facing a problem.
This very judgemental analysis definitely had some truth in it.
First of all the ANC students were given an enormous amount of money every month
from UNESCO: 20.000 escudos which corresponded to 670 dollars), whereas Tommy
who was on a UNEPSA scholarship got 5.000 escudos (= 170 dollars). The Mozambicans
lived of nothing. The ANC students to a large extent came from an urban background.
Their city culture showed itself in the way they dressed and the music they played, the
parties they gave and son on. But in general terms, however impoverished the
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Mozambican students were, those who had reached University level were either those
who had followed a Catholic Seminar education or were assimilados. Their culture was a
copy of the Portuguese culture and could in no way be considered more ‘bush’ than the
South African. The ANC men were womanisers to a large extent, whereas the Frelimo
students had a strict level of discipline, at least in the appearance. And many of the
problems arose around the behaviour of ANC students with women, ANC women or
Mozambican women.
But it would be too simplistic to only criticize the South African students. Many
mistakes, and perhaps the most fundamental mistakes came from the Mozambican
authorities. The ANC students were thrown into existing courses and although they had
never heard a spoken Portuguese word they were expected to perform like the
Mozambicans. No special course was set up for them. No special support group was set
up to help them through the books that they hardly understood. No teachers were trained
to explain to them what the language and the culture were all about. I also have the
feeling that the above mentioned ANC disciplinary committee was only set up when the
problems were very serious, and indeed, to solve problems rather than to prevent
problems.
Alpheus describes in letters how the Disciplinary Committee tried to work with the
problems
(24.9.78):
This morning I was visited by two (ANC) girls called Lulame and Phumla. They
came to ask if I could help them with their lessons in Historical Materialism. They
have a test the first week of October and the teaching is so poor they really had
NO IDEA WHAT THE WHOLE BLOODY THING IS ALL ABOUT!
and on the 10.10.78
After the meeting with the rector, the very next day two of our students got involved
with the army guys over girls and the Military Police were asked to go and arrest
them at ‘SELF’. We worked the whole weekend interviewing the two students in
order to make a report for the Rector. Yesterday I interviewed one of the two girls
and her mother for an hour and half at night, and this morning I interviewed the
other girl and her mother for about tow hours. The fathers are in Johannesburg.
Maputo, 18.10.78
Two days ago we got news that some students had already been eliminated from
the final exams, and this was in contradiction to our agreement with the Rector
about ten days ago, which was that all students of the ANC should be encouraged
to work harder and that the final exam would carry more weight than the tests done
during the year. This afternoon Albie and me had a long meeting with those
responsible and we have succeeded in having the decision reversed, to comply
with the agreement with the Rector.
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On the 1st of March 79:
I have just come back from an ANC meeting. We have thrown out 10 students
leaving 8. One or two out of the 8 may leave later - we are still investigating
(security)
Zuma and Lennox made the announcement and I was asked to make a final
speech. I looked straight at them and they stared hard at me and seemed to listen
to every word I said – some nodding their heads. Then I could not ‘see’ their faces
any more but my speech was not affected - I could hear every word dropping out
of my mouth. At the end I said ‘Amandla’ and they all responded... I came home in
a state of near collapse!
Maputo 1st of April 1979
Three students from the remaining group want to leave (Ben, the singer, is actually
leaving on Tuesday). The problem for me is that we are not cooperating well as a
counselling committee.
Tommy’s assessment of what went wrong seen with the hindsight of the years that have
passed and from somebody who was directly involved:
We were not in line with the current scenario of the value system in Mozambique.
We had problems in the first year. One student was expelled...for rape... he was
expelled from University. Problems started emerging. The performance at school
was not great. One could say the language aspect was also key to this. I should
think it was a question of dedication. So the second year in 1979 we had part of
the student body disintegrating. Some were now never attending classes. There
were problems in terms of academic performance.
We did mix with the Mozambicans. But we were sort of an elite. We behaved like
an elite. The major problem came from the girls. There were serious complaints
about the behaviour of our girls. ...Also there was a question of culture. We could
not adapt to this culture. We were coming from anglophile background to the
Portuguese culture. The mannerisms and what have you, also with the Frelimo
culture here, it was completely not the same. Because it is easier at the end of the
day to say: Well, there was a bunch of people who did not want to perform, but, if
one takes stock, we came at the height of the Mozambican revolution where
people had to tow the line. We were coming from a laissez-faire society,where
youth were outgoing, the June 16 group (the Soweto), in the main: all of us
Who remained in 1980 was: Enos, Lebo, Karrabo, Zama, Bernard, the late
Bernard... there were also ... other three. 1981, it was myself and Enos, because
Enos was here. The rest had gone. And end of 81 Enos was out. I completed my
studies in 1982.
(This Enos is the same Enos who had come to visit Tommy in prison, see p. )
77
Even Tommy had problems and had to call in Alpheus and Albie to help him solve a
confrontation with one of the teachers:
There was one who was out and out (racist), also again here, Richard from Chile.
He said he was going to fail me, because I told him that I disagreed with him. He
said: Africans were backwards. I argued with him. He said: Africans did not
understand Mathematics. I said: If you go back to the houses that we built in South
Africa in Kwazulu Natal, they were rondavels, circular houses. And I said the same
applies to the houses build by Tsonga people made from a reed, from a tree. You
just pull it, it becomes circular, so there is mathematics into it, the whole thing. We
disagreed. There was a big confrontation, and he said he was going to fail me, and
indeed, at the end of the year, he failed me. Then I requested a recorrencia
(repeat). I was given an assignment and I passed.
But it is important to underline that such problems occurred in many other places also
where many ANC students were gathered like in the Soviet Union. The Soweto culture
served its purpose of confronting the South African racist authorities but was less
adaptable for serious long terms studies. ANC students there exhibited the same lack of
discipline and had to be punished or expelled from the country. They were sent to the
Army or to the ANC's new school in Tanzania, the Solomon Mahlangu Freedom College,
SOMAFCO and given a new possibility.
It was painful to see the dream fall through. So many more students could have used the
University Eduardo Mondlane in the future if the problems had been tackled properly. It
became the only group of ANC students at the Eduardo Mondlane University. The
exercise was never repeated.
It was, however, not the only way in which the ANC and the University were
cooperating. It was, however, not the only way in which the ANC and the University
were cooperating. One of the institutions under the University was the Centre of African
Studies. The Director Aquino de Braganca was a Goan who in Portugal had joined the
cause of the struggle against colonialism. He was one of the co-founders in 1962 of the
C.O.N.P.C. (Conference of the Nationalist Organisations of the Portuguese colonies, see
p. ) in Casablanca. He was therefore very close to Marcelino dos Santos, and the other
liberation leaders and while giving his full support to the liberation struggle he was at the
same time a teacher of journalism in Alger and on the board of the leftist magazine
AfriqueAsie.
At Independence he moved to Mozambique with the Frelimo comrades and was a close
friend and confident to Samora Machel. He took on Mozambican nationality and was
asked a few years into Independence to create the Centre of African Studies together with
a handful of historians. Remembering the importance of the Centro de Estudos Africanos
in Lisbon as the heart for the development of nationalist thought in the Portuguese
colonies in the 1940’s and the 1950’s, FRELIMO leadership wanted to recreate the CEA
this time located in a liberated nation in Southern Africa.
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He knew Ruth First, a fellow militant journalist who had had to leave South Africa and
was now teaching at the University of Durham. They had collaborated on many articles
and political analyses and where both struggling to get the media to accept the truth about
the colonies and the liberation struggle. Ruth First had visited Mozambique at
Independence and in 1977 came back to conduct a study at the Centre. From 1978 she
became the Assistant Director and Head of Research of the Centre where she stayed until
her untimely death in 1982.
The Centre soon became known as an important Research Centre and attracted not only
South African Intellectuals – many of which belonged to the ANC - but also Marxist
intellectuals and sympathisers from Europe and the USA, both because of its research
objectives and because of its methodology.
Ruth First had a very clear perspective of how the Centre should be used and a very strict
no-nonsense attitude to anybody who came for ulterior motives (such as finding material
for their own personal academic advancement) or people whom she did not find capable
of doing the job. She was ruthlessly honest and showed both her enthusiasm and her
despise quite unequivocally. Too bad if you were not in her good books.
One of the researchers of the Centre, Rob Davies, says about her intentions:
Ruth First’s own activities and perspectives were shaped by a view that the
construction of socialism in Mozambique and the liberation struggle in South Africa
were inextricably inter-related. And her own personal focus was very definitely on
the building of socialism in Mozambique, and on the issues of rural economy,
industrial development. She was wholly absorbed in those kinds of issues, and
initially that was also the entire work of the Centre.
Ruth had a strong team around her consisting of:
Marc Wuyts, a brilliant Belgian Economist,
Bridget d’Laughlin, an American political scientist of high intellectual
standard.
Alpheus Manghezi, who left South Africa in 1960 as a social worker, studied
sociology in Nigeria and accomplished his PhD. in Uppsala in 1976, a few
months only before arriving in Maputo.
In 1979 Rob Davies joined the Centre. He was a South African who at first
joined NUSAS (The National Union of South African Students), then
“floated” to the left of NUSAS trying to find his links to the Liberation
struggle; was suspended from Rhodes University in 69 because of his
political interests; went to Britain where he started looking at South Africa
from a Marxist point of view at the University of Sussex. After finishing his
PhD. he went to Mozambique through the British Solidarity Movement
MAGIC. He had met Ruth and Joe through seminars and discussion groups in
Britain, but he didn’t join the ANC till he was in Mozambique.
He worked at the Centre from 1979 to 1990 as a most hard working, and
dedicated researchers. He is now a the vice minister of Trade and Industry.
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At around the same time Dan O’Mara also came to the Centre. He too was a
South African who was opposed to the apartheid policy and left the country
and contributed with all his professional knowledge about South Africa. He
now lives in Canada and has authored a number of books on South Africa.
Sipho Dlamini was also on the team. He was a researcher but at a later stage
became the representative of ANC for a short period.
Jacques Depelchin, a historian of Congolese descent also worked at the
Centre coming from the Department of History, a department that the Centre
cooperated with.
Judy Head was a British political scientist, who joined the work of the
Centre. She is now a lecturer at the University of Cape Town.
Helena Dolny was a British agricultural economist who was first working at
the Ministry of Agriculture with her husband Ed Wetley when they met
Tommy (see p. ) She left the Ministry and came to work at the Centre.
A superb documentalist of British descent, Colin Darch, was irreplaceable
for a task that had to be started from scratch.
Of the Mozambican research staff I know of Yussuf Adam, Luis de Brito,
Isabel Casimiro, and Teresa Cruz e Silva and Amelia Neves (check). Many of
them were seconded to the Centre from other faculties.
The high quality of Research that came out of the Centre and Ruth First’s network of
intellectuals was also known by international institutions who were looking for partners
as it would be called in modern days jargon. It was therefore not difficult to get the
necessary means and the necessary publication of the Centre activities.
Aquino, on the other hand, had his direct access to Samora, which meant that the
President was kept informed about any significant findings that could have political
consequences or needed to be acted upon.
At a meeting organised 25 years later at the CEA in Maputo called the V LusoPortuguese Social Science Conference in 2002 (check), many of the old researchers were
gathered and asked themselves a very important question: Were we actually blinded by
the excitement of a new order in this country and therefore (auto) censured what we saw,
when it was not considered ‘politically correct’? The consensus was that they had not
been ‘honest’ researchers both because of their own naive enthusiasm, now moderated by
the view of hindsight, and because they did not think it would be popular to mention this
in reports to Frelimo. I remember many discussions between my husband, Alpheus, and
Ruth First about what to write and what to omit in the reports. In some cases, the results
were filtered via Aquino to the President although not written in the formal report in
order to alert Frelimo to some of its mistakes.
Apart from the report written as a consequence of their work, the Centre also started
publishing the Magazine: Estudos Mocambicanos which became a vital instrument to
publish the works from the region. There were many deficiencies in the actual printing
and publishing and some of the issues were delayed for years, but the content of each
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article was of a very high quality. It later began being translated into English and is still a
trade mark magazine of the Centre of African Studies up till to-day.
Ruth First’s last publication was a book on the Mozambican Miner: Black Gold with
work songs by Alpheus and photographs of Ruth’s close friend and photographer, Moira
Forjaz. Ruth didn’t live to see it published.
It is important to underline what was said above, that the initial intentions of the Centre
were geared towards understanding the Mozambican society. Rob Davies explains:
The focus on South Africa emerged in response to a demand coming from the
Mozambican structures. They wanted to know about how to read certain
developments in the region. So, under Ruth, a group was established to work
particularly on the analysis of trends and developments in South Africa as far as
they impacted on Mozambique and we developed a number of projects around
that, including a book project published under the name of ‘The Struggle of South
Africa’.
They also developed regular series of analytical dossiers. And on a case by case basis
assisted in analysing developments in the region and in issuing warnings about how
events in South Africa looked likely to impact negatively on Mozambique.
Rob remembers one time:
We said that we were convinced there was going to be a raid on Mozambique
picking up signals from South Africa and the discourse that was coming out of the
regime. In fact, we were quite correct there was a raid. But it took place in Lesotho
in December 1982.
Sometimes these analytical memoranda were for internal consumption (including the
President) and only a restricted number of people saw them.
Other times CEA joined up with the National Documentation and Information Centre in
Mozambique (CEDIMO) and published some of the findings like the paper from April
1980: The Costellation of Southern African States: A New Strategic Offensive by South
Africa in the Region, and the Paper from March 1981 called: Background on the South
African General Election, 29th of April: Crisis of the ‘Total Strategy’. They belong to a
series called ‘Análise’ and the fact that these documents were also translated and
published in English show the importance of the analysis of the CEA.
What was it that made the CEA approach so important?
A letter from Alpheus in the context of understanding why the ANC students were
failing to be interested in their studies, probably show what the CEA did not want.
The university is not very pleasant to work in because attempts are still being
made to make the Blacks serve Marxism and not the other way round. I am not
saying that this is being done consciously with intention and all that - but the effect
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is exactly or is going to be just that. We shall end up with a bunch of graduates
who can recite any passage in the works of Marx and Lenin but who will have no
ideas whatsoever about the peasantry in Mozambique! But there is hope: we hear
that some top Frelimo cadres like Monteiro etc. might be appointed as
‘professores’ in university faculties and would have to come and give lectures now
and again in the class. If that happened, it would tip the balance in favour of
Mozambican society.
(letter of 25.10.78)
I clearly remember a ‘fight’ between Ruth and Alpheus. Alpheus wanted to record the
work songs of the peasant women in Inhambane. Ruth discarded this as not being very
relevant. Alpheus insisted and it was finally decided that he could go and do it and based
upon evidence it would or would not be used in the findings. It took Ruth one tape, one
song, to decide without any doubt in her mind that this was an extremely useful tool.
From that time on no research was undertaken by Alpheus without a good harvest of
work songs, and in the book Black Gold the work songs play a significant role.
Besides being a Research Institute, the CEA had a further function. In 1979 a two year
development course was created with the objective of giving lectures to students and
teachers from other faculties. The main aim was to change the political education that
was given to the students into a profound education on development, economics and
politics. The other aim was to give the students the tools and the methodology that had
proven so useful to the Centre itself.
It this context it should be mentioned that the University as a whole had introduced
something they called July Activities. During the academic holidays of the month of July
all students had to participate in some practical activity organised by their faculty. So also
the students of the CEA. That was the time when they learned in practice how to carry
out their theoretical learning and they learned what was going on in the country.
Although the organizing of the activities was a nightmare in the situation of scarcity
where you had to bring every grain of beans, every bag of sugar and tea to all the students
for 30 days was a real nightmare, the July activities were considered the most educative
and memorable part of many students’ university period.
I used to take my students of Education to some extra curricular activities and asked the
Centre to give my students some understanding of the economic situation of the country.
I shall never forget the lesson we got: The first day was a visit to the Maputo Harbour.
While looking at the mini-tablet of the outline of the harbour, Marc Wuyts, one of the
researchers from the CEA, would explain the significance of the harbour in the context of
the Southern African Region. We then walked from the mountain of sugar situated in one
part of the harbour, to the Hall of Oranges, to the coal hill in which the railways line
ended and finally finishing the tour in the container department. The next day we had a
theoretical lesson of what we had seen the previous day with all the questions we had not
already asked to the workers in the harbour. The students were all eyes and ears. But my
purpose was the pedagogical lesson. I could see their amazement at understanding that
this was a teaching method in itself. Until to-day this visit has stayed in my own mind so
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that nobody can start talking to me about Maputo Corredor, about privatisation of the
Maputo Harbour, about they physical geography and difference between the situation of
the Durban and the Maputo harbour, the link through Chikualakuala from Zimbabwe, the
sugar trains from Swaziland without being interrupted by my all knowing comments. I
learned just everything that day! Particularly why the Maputo Harbour was so important
for the Apartheid Regime.
The Centre also embarked on giving lecturers to some individual Politicians who needed
a fuller understanding of their country’s development. One of those was Guebuza, now
the President of Mozambique.
It was obvious that the Centre of African Studies was perceived as an ANC nest and
looked upon with big suspicion by supporters of apartheid. I remember an article in
Africa Confidential where Alpheus and myself were portrayed as running the Centre with
money I was supposed to have acquired through DANIDA sources. Pure nonsense. We
laughed, but did a bit of research to find the inventor of such a story and found him
amongst one of the young white Portuguese who had had to leave the country! And this
was just one example of disinformation with the purpose of proving that the CEA was an
ANC terrorist base.
What is true, of course, is that many of those who worked for the Centre also worked for
the ANC. That the information they gathered from newspapers, magazines, books and
Radio was used for the Centre and also for the ANC.
Alpheus for example used some of his trips in the border areas of Gaza Province with
South Africa to take Lennox along and to introduce him to the peasants.
Maputo 5.6.79
Lennox and I had an incredible weekend in Matukanyana. It was what I would call
a 100% success trip in both social and political terms. Socially Lennox was given
special treatment as a guest brought home by their son. He was completely
overwhelmed especially because all the men we met spoke to him in Xhosa, Zulu
and English. He said he just could not understand how come some of them spoke
better Xhosa than himself! We arrived there on Friday at 5 pm when it was dark
but in no time they had fixed everything, including supper of vuswa and sour milk.
The idea was to go and have a quiet weekend and try to introduce Lennox to some
of his ‘uncles’ whom he had not seen since he was born, but by 11.00 am on
Saturday, I had already filled two tapes with some very important interviews of
what has happened in the area since we were there last July. The interviews only
ended on Sunday at 10.30 when three songs on xibalo were recorded from a man
who was working on his machamba of green peas about 1½ km from the border.
He does not give any indications of what Lennox got out of it in political terms, but it is
not difficult to imagine how useful such contacts could be for the ANC.
I asked Rob Davies to tell me more about his double position between work and activist
and what roles he took on during the length of his stay at the Centre.
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Rob: There was a desire again to understand where this apartheid regime was
going. What the dynamics were. What the crisis of apartheid was all about. I think
that was the sort of interest they (Frelimo) had. It was conveyed to us in various
ways. Sometimes we were asked: We want to know about this and that. Can you
produce something? We produced various papers in direct response to requests.
Sometimes we would produce analyses on our own initiative. Later we became the
Southern Africa nucleus in the Centre. We were there to analyse the Region,
particularly apartheid SA’s role in the Region. You know, those of us who were
there at various points, Sipho, Dan, myself, Gottfried, Alpheus on things like labour
migration... we had our own projects, our own proposals. Most of us had been
involved before in analysis of some aspect of the apartheid state.
The new thing we started to learn and then to know was its regional policy, the
regional dynamics and out of that, for some of us, for me in particular, I developed
an interest as the apartheid destabilisation period was coming to an end about how
the region should be restructured with a democratic SA. That became an interest
there that I personally developed. It was a policy interest afterwards as well back
here.
In general we probably contributed in giving warnings about various things. Some
of them were fairly right, fairly correct, not necessarily in all the details. There was
that. And I think we contributed to development of a cadre of Frelimo people
beginning to understanding the apartheid regime a lot better than they had done
before.
We were not part of the inner circle. During the Nkomati period they would not
seem to share the analysis that emerged there, but thereafter, as I said, Mocumbi
(then Foreign Minister) had a group (a think tank on South Africa where also
Carlos Cardoso participated) , and I was drawn into that, so I think, quintessentially
we were there as a Centre to serve Mozambique. But it also, as I said, overlapped
with the work one was doing for the ANC at this level. I mean we were analysing,
evaluating the South African state and its strategy, there was material coming in,
we subscribed to a number of publications, and we would be using those in ANC
related work, in analysis of the way the Region was unfolding and particularly
Mozambique’s stance vis-à-vis the ANC.
And then there was the general political work in Mozambique. I ended up in
Maputo being sort of a political commentator about events at home. I used to be
on the (Mozambican) TV quite often. They used to call me to give a comment on
this and that.
And the Portuguese also.
This was clearly one other thing that upset them (the South African Regime). That
was another motivation about why they wanted to put me on the hit list. This
featuring quite frequently on the TV making what they called anti-South African
propaganda. That was another role we were playing. The diplomatic-political work.
During the Nkomati period, there was a short time when people were trying to say
that the centre of gravity in the struggle had passed away from the ANC. The ANC
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was not important. The real players were the UDF and the Trade Unions. And I
think we were able, when we were coming in and trying to show the
connectedness and the historic links and the current positions of these
organisations that were developing. I think it was at all of those levels, political,
diplomatic, ideological levels, where I was involved rather than in the deep
underground.
Rob used to write a monthly paper about the situation in Mozambique together with
Alpheus, Albie, and a South African journalist on the Mozambican Radio Dan Tsakane,
also one of the Soweto youth. Jacob Zuma participated whenever he had the time. This
paper was directly meant for the internal use of the ANC and was sent via Zuma to Oliver
Tambo.
Rob: At one stage the president Oliver Tambo called us all in and told us that it
was very valuable. We did it pretty regularly and systematically, and I think that the
group of us who were there all had a somewhat different take on events. I think we
combined it into quite a nice series of analyses. I think actually, it was quite a good
record of what was going on. I looked back at it a year or two ago, I think they were
quite good. They gave some context to the diplomatic and political world that
obviously was part of facilitating the re-emergence in Mozambique as a transit
facility for the ANC. But the thing was that actually what seemed to some of us was
a problem that the ANC community was very much an ANC community linked
around itself, and actually knew very little, few of them spoke Portuguese, and few
were at all involved but actually even interested in what was going on in
Mozambique.
The other thing is that, Mozambique was a major centre of diplomatic activity in
relation to South Africa. Soviet Union, Eastern Europe, Cuba, all had a significant
diplomatic presence there, and at least one of their tasks was analytical source
gathering on events in SA. I also got involved in some of that kind of work helping
some diplomats from supportive countries to understand what was going on. I
suppose the most interesting time in that regard for me was when I became quite
extensively involved with Cuban diplomats in trying to analyse the evolving Cuito
Cuanavale situation. I wrote a few opinion pieces.
That was Angola but our role was to try to understand the South African strategy.
The thrust of what I was trying to say was: Don’t count on the good will or
subjective statements of the regime. What will make them negotiate is when the
objective circumstances are such that they have no options. That was the thrust of
what I was saying all the time. I think it was probably correct in the end.
[I was dealing with] various Soviet guys. In the end probably with Foreign Affairs
and even the KGB. I used to sit down with people. Sometimes I was specifically
deployed by the Movement, you know, to help them understand.
I would go and meet them. And I would go and talk to them, give them some
material from time to time and try to make them understand what was going on.
And I think there was quite an active role for some of us in terms of first of all trying
to understand what was better for the Movement, what was going on in
Mozambique. I don’t think it was everybody’s task to do that, but the Movement
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certainly needed to have that capacity to understand what was going on in
Mozambique. I think, we made some contribution there. And then as I say,
Mozambique was a major listening post for them on what was happening in South
Africa, and to help them to understand a little more some of the dynamics.
Mozambique had gone through its first five years of Independence. The optimism was
high. The enthusiasm even higher. And the hope of changing their poverty stricken
country into a free and independent nation was at the top. A goal within reach.
Every month all Mozambicans who had a work would give one day’s wage to the Bank
of Solidarity which was created to aid people’s struggle throughout the world and the
victims of disaster in Mozambique. Every worker, one day per month. Also the
international solidarity workers were constantly quoted in the newspaper for having
donated a certain sum. Often individuals. Sometimes NGOs. Far were the days where the
donors and the World Bank would sweep in and take over the control of the country
through their donations. Now a days 80% to 90% of the Nation’s budget is given or lent
to the Mozambican government. Difficult to talk about Independence.
Besides political conferences like the III Congress of Frelimo in 1977, and the OMM
Conference in the same year (preceded as always by a man, this time Mario Machungu),
Marcelino dos Santos hosted an Asian-African writers’ conference together with Rafael
Maguni, Luis Bernardo Honwana, José Craveirinha, Rui Nogar, Orlando Mendes.
Mozambican culture revived. Renaissance as the South Africans would call it. The values
of being an African. Experimental Television was introduced in 1979. 3 hours per day.
The State took over factories and huge estates. It was only later that it should be known
how disastrous this process was going to become. The same for the big effort in
introducing Aldeias Comunais and Cooperatives which the Centre of African Studies
would analyse.
The economic offensive in Niassa seemed genuinely on its way. This huge province
should produce for the nation. The 400.000 ha project between Niassa and Cabo Delgado
was under way. International organisations were doing their bit to plan their support. And
we believed that this would be the model for how to attack problems of
underdevelopment. More than 1000 Mozambicans were sent to the province to set up
homes in Niassa and transform the Vila of Unango to a city. The project would open up
opportunities for young people from all over Mozambique.
A Unity Bridge was to be built across the Rovuma to give road access between the two
friendly countries, Tanzania and Mozambique and open up better trade facilities. But
plans stopped in the middle of the following year. (Up till to-day the bridge has not been
finished although it is now again on its way).
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Maputo got its Green Zone project to make sure that the capital could never be cut off
supplies. This very successful project has never stopped to grow. Until to-day the women
in the União das Cooperativas are working successfully creating livelihood and education
for their children who are now the ones who have taken over.
Literacy campaign number one and number two were highly successful. and so was the
campaign of the Ministry of Health to eradicate some of the serious popular diseases. The
vaccine campaigns were successful and Mozambique became one of the examples of the
WHO of prominent work.
Two events were very important for me during the first years after my arrival in
Mozambique in 1977.
One was about the General Elections in 1978 where I participated (as a spectator). The
elections in the only party that existed, therefore the General Elections. In my western
democratic spirit it was difficult to understand how elections could be “free and fair”
when they were not secret. On the other hand, I had and have little admiration for the
Western System where one would call a state “democratic” just because every four or
five years there was an election. How can that truly represent the will of the people? In
particular I have little esteem for to the United States where you have to be a millionaire
with all your networks closely linked to the tobacco-, arms- drugs or other important
industries before you could even dream of proposing yourself as a presidential candidate.
I still think the same. And always have to laugh because it is the West who defines what
the word “democracy” means and because the US is promoted as the most democratic
country in the world.
I participated in the elections of new cadres at the University where we were all gathered
and listened to each candidate as he or she stood up and proposed him or herself as a
candidate to be elected into the Party.
I was very impressed with the process. I listened to the reactions, sometimes formally
from other speakers with the microphone, sometimes informally from the spectators and
sometimes in the form of questioning from the chairperson of the meeting. It was difficult
to lie about who you were, because people knew you and were not afraid to speak out,
and because people at that time were keen to get the best representative. They didn’t let
you pass if you were not worth it, and they were able to dig up your past, even if you
tried to conceal it.
The other event was about the Reconciliation Process in Mozambique. On every Entrance
to a Work Place the photographs and the life stories of those who had betrayed the people
during the long struggle against Colonialism were exposed. I found it harsh, yet just, that
the collaborators, the traitors of the Revolution should be exposed to everybody at their
workplace, unable to hide away from the colleagues he or she was working with.
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I was at the time working at the Ministry of Education and in a very typical Frelimo way
I participated in all political debates and meetings at the Ministry. But this initiative was
never discussed. Nobody had a qualm with it.
Later, after having followed the South African Truth and Reconciliation Process, I have
been surprised that nobody seemed to know what had taken place in Mozambique. Not to
copy it - the conditions were very different - but to analyse the reasoning and the effects
of the way the Mozambicans had dealt with their process.
FRELIMO behaved with remarkable leniency towards collaborators.
It believed that it was always possible to change people's political ideas and it was
prepared to forgive collaborators. But it was not prepared to forget.
Colonialism had left deep wounds in Mozambican society. Thousands of
Mozambicans had lost relatives at the hands of the Portuguese army or secret
police. Those who collaborated bore part of the responsibility for this suffering
and misery. If the collaborators were to be reintegrated into Mozambican
society, then they had to admit their past guilt, and their work mates had to
know of their past activities. Reintegration could not take place on the basis of
deceit.
Hence the decision to put up the photographs. As President Samora Machel
put it when announcing this decision, in November 1978, a collaborator’s public
recognition of his part was “the first effort to free himself from the burden
weighing on his conscience.”
writes Paul Fauvet in an article from 1982 in AIM, the Mozambican News Agency.
When FRELIMO took full power in June 1975, it had no easy way of knowing who had
collaborated and who had not. But processes like the one I witnessed in 1978 would often
unmask the past of applicants to the party. And gradually the hidden collaborators were
exposed. When the photographs were put up, meetings were held to inform workers of
their purpose. The collaborators were not to be ostracised or victimised - instead their
workmates should assist in their rehabilitation, while carefully watching their behaviour.
The photographs also destroyed the possibility of blackmail. Collaborators had received
threatening letters, usually from Ian Smith’s Rhodesia, on the lines of “Work for us, or
we’ll expose your past to FRELIMO.”
Paul Fauvet explains:
Initially, it was believed that the photos would stay up for two years: instead
they were in place for over three. Finally, at the end of 1981, President Machel
announced that they would shortly be withdrawn, and a final assessment made
of those concerned. Those whose behaviour had been good, who had given
proofs or their commitment to the new, socialist Mozambique, would be
considered as fully reintegrated. On the other hand, those who had a bad work
record, those who had made no attempt to come to terms with new realities,
would lose their jobs.
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But the withdrawal of the photos was to be seen as an important political occasion. And
to bring the process of rehabilitation to a close, the FRELIMO Party leadership called a
meeting in Maputo to which over 1.000 former collaborators were invited. The meeting,
spread over two days in May and five in June, lasted for a total of over 50 hours.
Opening the meeting, Machel distinguished three reactions to the photos among the
collaborators. First, there were those who “felt that they had been discovered. Their
collaboration with the enemy was still going on.” Their reaction was to go over openly to
the enemies of the Mozambican Revolution, to flee, first to the illegal regime in
Rhodesia, and later to South Africa. “They always run after their former bosses”,
remarked Machel contemptuously. “They can’t live without licking somebody’s boots.”
Others, however, “reflected seriously on their anti-patriotic activities of the past”. They
were capable of “rebirth”. They understood their past crimes and had “decided that,
through hard and dedicated work, through participation in the tasks of national
reconstruction, they would be able to merit a place in our free country.” They had
“demarcated themselves clearly from the camp of the enemy.”
But there was a third category - those who “are physically with us, but the enemy is
camping in their heads.” These did not flee the country, but can still be found in factories
and offices, where, consciously or unconsciously, they act as enemy agents.
The greater part of the meeting took the form of a dialogue between the President and the
former collaborators. It was dramatic - and sometimes highly emotional - voyage into
Mozambique’s recent past, as the collaborators sometimes willingly, sometimes
reluctantly, spoke of their role in the repressive machinery of Portuguese colonialism.
Quite a few still claimed that they hadn’t really done anything wrong. But some showed
more awareness and self-criticism. A journalist who gave a strikingly honest account of
how he was recruited into the ANP, one of the fascist Partuguese organizations, so
impressed Machel that the President said his openness should be a model to be followed
by all the other participants.
At the end of the meeting, Machel effectively wiped the slate clean. With the exception
of three individuals detained during the meeting (they had persisted in lying blatantly
about their past, even though files on them were in the hands of the President), all those
present were no longer to be considered as collaborators. From now on they would enjoy
the same political rights as any other Mozambican citizen. And their photos would now
be taken down.
The meeting ended on a high note of elation. Tears could be observed on the cheeks of
men not used to crying. Collaborators had finally started on the road to patriotism.
We were all filled with admiration. Samora Machel was exceptional in his performance
during the meeting. He had a memory that I have never met before. Every name, every
face, every detail of what had taken place in the over 10 year long freedom struggle. That
is why so few managed to escape his questioning. If any culprit tried to fabric their own
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story, he would ask them about when and who was the leader, how had this taken place,
and because of his memory.... and perhaps his detective ability, he was able to reduce any
lie to what it was.
When I try to read Paul’s article with the eyes of the youth of to-day, I have the
impression that some of this seems very extreme to them. Their context is so completely
different. They must find it hard to believe that we were so “fanatic”, so “naïve” (is that
word better?), and they even find it hard to believe that we would be so involved. They
look at what followed this process, they look at the horrors that followed, the new war,
and the laissez-faire or rather the let-me-get-rich individualism that exists now and where
high ideals are a hindrance rather than a driving force. But basically, they don’t believe
what we claim that we were all fighting for the people’s right to their country.
I read with pleasure some lines in Paul Fauvet’s and Marcelo Mosse’s book on Carlos
Cardoso (Carlos Cardoso: Telling the Truth in Mozambique) where they discuss the
freedom of the press during Samora’s days:
The Mozambican journalists of 1975 were not concerned with “freedom of the
press” as that phrase is understood today… Indeed, press freedom was initially
regarded as a bourgeois concept and as a smokescreen behind which
monopoly capital manipulated the western media. In Mozambique, it was
openly recognised that journalists took sides – with the revolution and against
reaction. And being with the revolution meant accepting the “leading role” of the
revolutionary party.
Frelimo enjoyed enormous prestige…..In Samora Machel it possessed a leader
of extraordinary charisma, a spellbinding orator, a man driven by a passion for
justice for his people. Most Mozambican journalists would have followed
Samora wherever he led.
Machel defined liberalism as “lack of respect for structures, lack of respect for
the political line, lack of respect for discipline. Where there is liberalism, there is
no responsibility.”
Nobody objected… After all, were they not all, the leadership and the
journalists – on the same side?... Nobody assumed that Machel and his
comrades were driven by a lust for power, much less simple greed.
What Mosse and Fauvet say about “journalists” could be said about everybody. The few
individuals I have met later who claim that at the time they didn’t like Frelimo were so
exceptional that they only confirm the rule. I have the feeling that it is exactly this point,
that we were all so united in our hope and hard work for the future that is so difficult for
the youth to understand…. They have to create their own reality, and maybe it is true that
one generation can never learn from the previous. They have to build up what is their
reality… and yet we go on wanting them at least to know what they come from. That is
our duty, so we feel. They must look at it, and then – if they cannot use it – throw it in the
dustbin of history if they want.
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Besides the two discussions that impressed me at the time- the election process and the
reconciliation process, I deeply admired the fact that FRELIMO was so open towards us
foreigners. As an individual working for the Ministry of Education and for a secondary
school, the First of May, I was allowed to take part and I was expected to say my
opinion, read the political documents. But also the ANC as an organization benefited
from this attitude.
Dan Tsakane from the ANC tells the following story with pride and laughter: As a
journalist and member of the Mozambican Journalist Organisation he regularly
contributed in the sessions they held. He was invited to participate in an International
Conference, and the rule was that everybody participated in the discussion, but when it
came to the voting, the International Journalists had to leave.
Dan: Rebelo (the then minister of Information) was there, and Manuel Tomé
(then head of the Mozambican Youth Movement OJM) was there and they said
it was time to leave, and we were all going out. And Rebelo said: But where is
that young man going? And they said: Well, but he is a sulafricano . And he
said: “No no no no. Este moço está comnosco há dez anos. This was Rebelo,
and I didn’t really know him that well. “Este é mocambicano. É sulafricano, mas
é mocambicano. Pode ficar aqui. Pode votar.” “Nao, mas os estatutos...” “Ele
tem que ficar aqui participar... He is giving us good input. He must stay.”
Dan was also from the Soweto generation. Although his participation in the uprising was
of a more general sympathetic character, the police got on to him, and he had to flee the
country. He found the recently arrived students there and quickly struck up a friendship
with many of them, particularly with Tommy to whom he is still grateful for having
helped him financially to get through the first couple of months until he got a job. He
joined the ANC soon after arriving.
Although his original hopes had been to become a doctor, he jumped on the opportunity
first to have one of his poems translated and published in the Mozambican magazine
Tempo (in 79), and then to be offered a job in the newly opened English section of the
Mozambican News Agency AIM which was headed by Frances Christie at the time.
Some of his colleagues were Paul Fauvet, Carlos Cardoso, and Ricardo Branquinho who
was the overall director. Jorge Rebelo was the Minister of Information succeeded soon
after by José Luis Cabaco. All of these names are still fresh in the memory of people
who lived in Mozambique at the time.
Dan was soon after transferred to Radio Mozambique. In 1980 with the Independence of
Zimbabwe, the short wave station previously used by Radio Free Zimbabwe was closed
down. This short wave station was famous in colonial days for sending good music from
Lourenço Marques and was listened to by many South Africans in the Eastern and
Southern part of the country. The idea was to create a station that would be listened to by
people in Mozambique who spoke English and sent to the areas in South Africa which
could catch it.
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Frelimo started the English Station of the Radio Mozambique headed by Iain Christie on
this short wave station. There was no need to make it an ANC Channel, because the ANC
already had their radio sending from Zambia, but Iain’s idea, and then Dan’s idea was to
introduce as much South Africa and ANC stuff as possibly. As Dan explains:
Dan: We used the UN tapes. The UN had a radio, an anti-apartheid radio, and
there was a lot of equipment. And when the leaders were in New York they would
be interviewed, and they would be sending these interviews for free all over the
world, and we would play some of those interviews with Oliver Tambo, Johnny
Makatini who was the UN representative of the ANC... and other leaders who
visited and made speeches. And when the ANC leaders were in town we would
interview them as well. I remember Michael Wolfers, the journalist from England.
He interviewed O.R., and we played that interview lots of times. And as the time
was moving on, more and more ANC leaders visited. We interviewed them and
we put them on. And we managed to put statements of the ANC in news
stories. What ever the ANC, the issues, the activities of the ANC in Maputo we
put it on. No other radio station could do that.
But it was not an ANC Radio Station. It was not a Radio Freedom, and I am sure
it must have frustrated some ANC people who might have wished otherwise. But
I think it was an ideal vehicle because unlike Radio Freedom it could not be
targeted directly as an enemy radio. I think it was an ideal vehicle because it had
a certain different feel to it. It was not part of ANC structure. It was part of a
Frelimo structure.
I also worked closely with a number of people from the ANC. At some point with
Sikagele Khatshe he was the head of DIP. And then Thabo Mbeki became the
head of the DIP later on.
I also worked with Alpheus Manghezi, Rob Davies, Jacob Zuma, David Rabkin,
who worked in the AIM for a short while when he came to Maputo. This group
were part of an Intelligence gathering of a small kind and used to brief Oliver
Tambo when he came to Maputo. I learned a lot at the time. And I grew a lot as
well.
We used to have three broadcasts during the day. Our first broadcast was one
o’clock to half past one. So you had the news bulletin. You had a commentary,
and then you had a programme, current affairs. It was broadcasting to SA mainly.
If you are sitting in Maputo like this, you look at the rest of Southern Africa going
Westwards. Maputo is the East, so the transmitter was beaming Westwards,
going South and going North. People used to listen to us right up to Cape Town
and Durban. We used to get letters from there. Right up to Zimbabwe and
Zambia. But I used a name which was agreed on by Cardoso, Iain and Rebelo
just so that I should not use my real name because of my background. Cardoso
said my parents would be in trouble otherwise. I was Leo Mthembu. Both Iain
and Cardoso were very concerned. I really appreciated their concern at the time.
That was the name I used as a journalist, the name I used for all my stories in
Mozambique.
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Dan never left the Radio again. He loved the Radio media. When, in 1982, he was offered
a scholarship to go to Canada to study media communication, he declined. The reason
was, however, not very professional. The young man had fallen in love with a
Mozambican colleague at the Radio, and couldn’t think of leaving Odette Saraiva e
Sousa, who a few years later became his wife.
According to some agreement between the ANC and Frelimo Dan got the pay of any
local Mozambican. And although a foreigner, he was treated exactly like a local in terms
of training and promotion. He learned about sound control, the sound desk, being a sound
engineer in the studio. He did news reading, presentation, played music, did editorial
writing, and in 1985 became a chief sub editor. He learned so well that he could take his
knowledge with him back to South Africa where he continued in the same field and
became the vice-director of Channel 702.
For the Mozambicans the first five years were the years of optimism. At this point in
time, in the year 1980 it was not yet clear in the population what prolonged terror and
civil war was under way. The bandits were very active in Manica and Sofala, but we all
hoped that after the Independence of Rhodesia things would calm down. When one
student was killed during the July activities when participating in the First Census in the
country, and we were informed he was killed by the bandits in 1980, we began to
understand for the first time that it hit close to home, it hit completely innocent people,
and it was the beginning of something cruel. Just at the time when Mozambique had
hoped she could now develop all her energy on the socio economic development of the
country.
The first five years of the Mozambican Independence had been the easy ones. Optimism,
Enough food for everybody although restricted quantities. Hopes for the future which
would give health, education, justice and basic living conditions for everybody. Hardship
also. But that was part of the parcel.
From the time Lennox was running up and down to the Namaacha border in his little
green Volkswagen to meet people who had jumped the fence to the level five years later
with a whole community of ANC comrades, the difference was enormous.
He first got a combi from the Swedes, then other cars for the office. International
organisations and individuals like a Danish couple and a Dutch couple donated their cars
to the ANC, one reason being that they wanted to help the organisation, the other reason
being that they could not take money out of the country, so they either sold their car and
gave the money to the Movement or they simply gave the car to the Movement.
Individuals like Albie, Ruth First, Joe Slovo, Tixie Mabizela (wife to the chief
representative in Swaziland Stan Mabizela), our family, all had their cars that were easily
put at the disposal to the Movement. We also knew which of the comrades imported
stolen cars from South Africa. Their ANC connections at the border probably helped a
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lot. It wasn’t talked about openly, but the leadership knew…. and seemed to turn a blind
eye to such activities….. In the name of the Revolution and the Oppression…. They were
probably stolen form White owners, so what was the problem (????!!!)
The housing situation was also solved. Frelimo very kindly put at the disposal a number
of houses. In Matola where the ANC originally only had the Reception Centre which
Zola mentioned, some of the machineries got each their big house and certain individuals
also had theirs. Frene Ginwala, whose family had and still has business in Mozambique
donated one big house, always called Internal, and a flat in Julius Nyerere Avenue which
become known as ‘Zuma’s flat’ and housed many people. Ruth First and Joe Slovo
stayed in Julius Nyerere nearly opposite the South African Trade Mission (which existed
all along the years), but were later for security reasons moved into the closed protected
Zone where all the Frelimo Ministers lived. The people who were working for a
Mozambican Institution like Albie, Ed and Helena, Rob, us, Dan got their housing from
their workplace. All together it never constituted a big problem for Frelimo, since the
Portuguese had left behind them when they fled in their thousands a series of good
quality empty houses and flats.
At the beginning food and clothes were given to us from Frelimo stores, later from the
United Nation High Commission for Refugees and from different sympathetic European
governments or Non Governmental Organisations in particular the Swedish, among
which was Emmaus. The clothes were referred to as Mpando and the moments of
distribution highly appreciated. This was the time when the Mozambicans were
beginning to miss out on all essentials, both imported goods and even on agricultural and
home produced material. Not only were the products in short supply but the whole
distribution system was folding up, and Mozambicans had to develop all their skills and
networks to get food on the table, while the ANC had vans delivering all of what the
heart could desire right to the door.
And let us admit it: The sensitivity in this matter, was not always the highest in the minds
of the ANC comrades. Many liked to boast with their consumption capacity. Although
the Mozambicans were extremely patient and understanding, extremely devoted to the
solidarity with the ANC, this situation could not help but to develop jealousy and envy
amongst them slowly increasing over the years. The comrades who knew how to deal
with the situation were skilfully and warmly using this extra supply to get friendship and
understanding amongst the supporters.... it could even be used as a bribe, but at that time
few Mozambicans were liable to bribes. At that stage the revolutionary solidarity with the
ANC was the driving force.
So the material conditions for the reception of the exodus of ANC comrades were there.
And no rival South African organisation was competing for recognition. Unlike Tanzania
and Zambia PAC was not offered a place in the country. Only the ANC.
Its activities centred around the ANC office situated in a flat off Av. Mao Tse Tung and
had grown from the first days of Lennox’ arrival. Lennox himself was not often in the
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office. He was busy with official activities and the people arriving, and probably planning
the military building up and activities that the rest of us did not know about.
Jacob Zuma, the Deputy Representative mostly worked from his flat, and if you thought
that there were many comrades visiting the office for different purposes, one would be
amazed how many people were gathering in Zuma’s flat when he was there. He was often
travelling to Lusaka and other of ANC ‘provinces’. But when he was in Maputo
comrades with problems, with conflicts, those who needed a solution of some kind, those
who had difficulties contacting their families or needed other type of support. would be
sitting in his flat. There is no doubt that Zuma was considered a person with high
empathy and desire to help ordinary comrades. It has always been my belief that the skills
Zuma has later been using in solving almost unsolvable conflicts whether with Inkhata, in
Burundi or elsewhere, he developed those skills in Maputo. Perhaps he had them. Perhaps
the comrades of his ten years on Robben Island had already noticed them, but beside all
his other tasks, this was one that he gave a lot of thought. And the comrades knew.
The Office dealt with money, distribution of goods, documentation of the comrades,
transport. And its staff grew. There was now a treasurer, there was logistic staff, there
were secretaries, there were those dealing with new arrivals.
And the ANC Community also got itself organised. There were committees set up to deal
with funerals, to deal with festive occasions, to send representations to Frelimo events,
but most importantly, the ANC Community got organised on line with other ANC
‘provinces’. The Regional Political Committees (RPC) was a structure created in 1978 by
a meeting of the National Executive Committee (NEC) in Lusaka. They were subordinate
to the Secretary General, and supposed to be the highest political organs of the movement
in those countries where ANC members resided. They had the task of ensuring that all
members of the organisation were integrated in functioning branches and that members
were actively involved in the work of the movement. As Shubin puts it (o.c.p.185) ‘The
election of the RPC was a step towards democracy, which was very hard to maintain in
the conditions of exile and semi-legality.
The Units of the ANC Community would meet regularly. A unit was a small entity of 5-6
people who would meet fortnightly depending on each unit’s wish. It was in these units
that the politics of the ANC was discussed. It was here that personal problems were taken
up, and it was here also where the first attempts of choosing delegates for seminars and
international events were made before a bigger ANC Maputo meeting would take place.
I remember our discussion about a People’s War. What did it mean, what were the
implications? I remember the discussion about the Women’s position in the Movement. I
remember that we used topics from Sechaba. We were learning politics and we were
learning to function democratically, and we were learning to dare to speak out.
When that is said, I also have to admit, that the leadership took their own decisions on
matters, and that not everybody took these unit meetings very seriously. It was often
reported that this and that unit had ceased to function.
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There was a kind of a hierarchy in the ANC. The most heroic was to be part of a military
underground structure. The political underground structure was not considered as highly,
but at least it was underground. The above-ground unit structures were not of a very high
rank in the comrades’ opinion and therefore many stayed away. Unfortunately many
leaders had the same attitude and some of them could not be bothered to go to the unit
meeting... which of course set a bad example. As Rob Davies puts it:
I think it also rises partly from the fact that many of the people who were there
were actually underground. They were not supposed to be out in the general
milieu. You know, this Regional Political Committee we were involved in, its
counterpart in London, was the most senior structure in the organisation in the
region. In Maputo it clearly was not. It only covered people who were not deep
underground. And I must say there were some quite interesting little signs there.
People used to use the fact that they were involved in internal structures to get out
of Units. Some people didn’t want to do the political work. But there were some
people who were notable exceptions to that. People like Chris Hanni who was a
major figure in the MK always used to participate whenever he was there.
Perhaps this was one of the very characteristic features of the ANC community in
Mozambique. It was created as an operative area with all the underground structures. It
was also meant to be a rear base for Swaziland. The structures above ground were
originally only meant as a support to the underground. But because of the full support of
the Mozambican government and people, what would in other areas have had to be
hidden or semi-hidden activities could be openly displayed, at least at this point in time.
And because of the diplomatic and political need the above ground community grew.
There were those two large communities. Some of them overlapping doing both at the
same time.
The health situation was a good example of the growing needs. At the beginning the
office had a few auxiliary nurses, trained in Tanzania, Irene and late Magdalene… and a
small cupboard with some essential drugs. We would receive a rare visit of the ANC
doctor Manto (now minister of Health), and for the rest, the comrades would be treated at
the Maputo Central Hospital. But as time went by, this was not considered enough. The
ANC population grew, and in 1976 Florence Numsane, a fully trained South African
nurse was sent to the office.
Florence is one of those comrades whose life story tells the history of the ANC.
Florence is the daughter of a tribal chief, Mingha in the then Gazunkulu Bantustan. She
was trained as a nurse at the Swiss Mission Hospital of Elim and after three and a half
year she became a registered State Trained Nurse in 1943. At the time it was probably the
only profession where the training of white and blacks were of the same quality and the
same status. She later became a trained mid-wife from a Natal Hospital and then went to
Soweto to work. That is where she met with the ANC. She is a contemporary to another
famous ANC nurse, MaSisulu, and worked with her and with Lilian Ngoyi at the political
level. She fought against the women’s pass carrying and went to the Union Buildings on
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the 9th of August of 1956, but had eventually to give in and get a pass. After four years
of banning she fled the country with her two children in 1970, and worked to keep her
children at school first as a nurse in Botswana then in Zambia as a nursing teacher.
When the ANC decided to send her children to Cuba, she felt that there was no more the
need for her to work for the Zambian Government in order to earn money, and although
both the Secretary General Nzo and the Treasurer General, Nkobi originally were against
it - the ANC at that stage simply didn’t have the means to deploy people - she told them
that she would quit her job and work entirely for the ANC. Nzo immediately sent her to
Mozambique where the influx of Soweto youth was the highest and her services most
needed. She arrived in 1976.
She immediately clashed both with Lennox and Zuma who set her to work under the two
auxiliary nurses in the office. You don’t play with a personality of that calibre for
nothing:
Florence: I went to the office. To Lennox and Zuma. ‘People, I am here. I am a
registered nurse. With so many years experience. I was doing a responsible job in
Lusaka. Now I am here. I am working under these auxiliaries. I cannot take that,
because there is nothing they can tell me. I am the one to say: No, it is done that
way, and yet I am subjected to their judgement. No ways.’ These two didn’t
understand.. I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t know the difference between us.
They had no inkling what I was talking about. There was a lot of hostility about
that. But I would rather go through that hostility for that period of time. I knew I had
to do that and finish and come back to normal.
One of her duties was to receive the young students coming into the country and
interview them. Not only about their medical history, but also in general getting to know
them and treat them like a mother.
Florence: There were lots of them, and some... almost every one of them had
health problems... and O.R. had put it very clearly to me: Sis Flo, when these
children come here, make them understand that education is a must. And if they
so wish, they can go to military courses after completing their education courses.
Make them understand that education and military training are two arms of the
same struggle. And that was my preaching every day. Believe you me, a twelve
year old came and he said: ‘Gogo, I am not going to school. I had so many friends,
and they have all been killed by these Maboere. I want to go and train, get a gun
and go back home: I tried to make him understand that he was too small for
handling a gun. He said: ‘Gogo, I am strong. I will do it.’ And no one could change
him. Even when they were at the airport to leave... going to board a plane for
Angola, I still went to the airport and tried to convince him. The boy refused. That
was the last I saw of him.
I think it is thousands (that passed through her hands). Really. Thousands.
Because in any given group that would arrive there, they would be in tens,
twenties, in forties, depending on how they left home and how they managed to
slip through the police cordon.
97
They would stay in the Matola residences.
I lived there. We lived there. In the Reception Centre. We had a room, which was
a consulting room as well as our bedroom.
I had to take their history. Their family history and know where they came from.
What illnesses. I got quite a number of TB cases. These TB cases I had to refer to
Tanzania where Manto and others were working.
I was not only a health person. I was also attending to people’s emotional well
being.
I was a therapist, a mother, everything for them. And then I had to take them to the
local hospitals before they proceeded to the North, Tanzania or to the military
hospital. Because for school, they had to go to Tanzania. For military, they had to
go to Angola. I had a book for Angola, and one for Tanzania.
And of course Florence also had to look after the ANC Community in general.
Florence: Everybody, medically, was my responsibility in the whole of
Mozambique, Swaziland and Lesotho. We only had a doctor when Manto visited
there or another doctor came there.
So the ANC now had a fully fledged and energetic nurse who would do all for the
Movement. But what were her material conditions?
Florence: The conditions of work were very much the same wherever whenever
things happened, because we got very little, money-wise, to do our work and buy
medicine. We mainly had to buy our medicine from funds from the office. At one
occasion Frene Ginwala.... She is from Maputo. We lived at their (the family’s)
flats, and we used to go there and treat those people. And then we met Frene. It
was the time she was moving out completely. The sister was already in South
Africa. When she was rounding up she gave the Health Department a thousand
escudos. And it was such a lift as far as buying medicine was concerned. I will
never forget that. We took it to the office. I took it there and said: ‘Ginwala has
given us this’. And it came at a time when we were in need. So they said OK. Go
and utilise it. We went to the pharmacy and covered a lot of ground with that
money.
The UNHCR and the Swedes supported in this way that if you had cases of
specialised treatment, they organised it. We could go to the Embassies for cases
that needed specialised treatment which was not available in Maputo. And more
often than not, they helped us a lot. They would organise their tickets, everything,
until you go and see them off. And when they come back they will inform you, your
patients are coming back. And then they were ready waiting for you. They did.
At one stage they moved me from Matola because there was an influx of women
with small children coming from home. So the chief rep decided that as a trained
nurse I would be in a better position to look after these children. So I moved from
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Matola. And left the auxiliaries there. But every morning I had to go to Matola and
come back in the evening. Because I had to operate from Matola to this place...
One would think that Florence was busy the whole day... and night.
But when she came to Maputo she was given.... or is it more correct to say that she took
on another important role, that of organising the ANC women.
Florence: There was no existing ANC Women Section. Do you know who was
running the Women Section?...Zuma... The deputy chief rep. Then I thought if it is
a Women Section, I can’t imagine a man running that one. There were ANC
women in Maputo, like Isabel, but they had no inkling of what was going on. Even
politically I had to start from A.
I told them: There is no Women Section. Let us sit down and build a basis for the
Women Section. Then we had to elect the Officials. Naturally, I had to be one of
them. Then I said: We have to have a Committee. A chairperson, a secretary, and
a treasurer, because these are the main three portfolios we need, and then a
political organiser to see to the political aspect. We formed that and then compiled
a register of members. And then we stared convening meetings. And minutes
being taken and having records.
Magdalene was very active with OMM. (The Mozambican equivalent to the ANC
Womens League, called Organizacao da Mulher Mocambicana)
We worked very closely with the OMM. In all their projects. Wherever they had
their projects. Even big meetings, like commemorations and all, we were there as
part and parcel. And ANC always provided transport. A big truck with a tank full.
We were going to harvest...And then we were going to cut sugar cane in Xinavane.
ANC was there. So really the office was behind us.
When they commemorated their Day, on the 7th of April, we were there. And when
it was our Day (the 9th of August) we commemorated, they were with us. When
ever they had meetings, they invited us. And we invited them. We were really
working hand in hand with the OMM. They looked after us very, very well. They
made our life easy.
Unfortunately there were also problems and jealousy in our group. Of course we
had to have an election. You can’t be in an office indefinitely. Because leadership
has to be done by all of you. Each one of you, you learn on the job. It was natural.
Some of the students used to come to our meetings. And then, of course they left
for Tanzania ... but they had problems… after the elections we had a lot of
commotion.... one pulling the ribbon this way, one pulling that way
Those who came with children, it was really necessary to send them to Mazimbu
(SOMAFCO), because there were schools in Mazimbu, and there were places for
children, even a place that was established for these female comrades who got
babies...there was a place for them.
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I couldn’t help asking Florence about something that had always shocked me a lot: The
quantity of babies that the ANC men left behind them everywhere. Zola had been telling
how in the camps the women were not only advised how to prevent pregnancies but
ordered to take precautions. What about the men? Was there never any discussions with
the men of preventing pregnancies?
As part of my health work I was involved in the sex programme, and I never
thought of that one, except those who got married, because some of them got
married. So that I didn’t go into. Now a days we talk about it because of Aids etc.
What you must do and not do. How to be careful etc. But I doubt that it was
discussed with the men. Men are always on the clear. That is my impression.
Because everything weighs on women as if they exist alone. They left many
children. But does that not happen wherever there is an army?
The ANC Womens League worked closely with the OMM as Florence explained. It is
also my impression that groups of ANC women belonging to the Church linked up
closely with Mozambican religious groups, went to their services, to their weddings and
funerals. In the case of the Chambale family I know that they developed a whole
exchange service between religious people of the Swiss Mission on both sides of the
border, to which many ANC members belonged. But it was not an official ANC activity.
The ANC also looked after the children. As explained in the beginning, they did not only
make sure that the children went to the International School, they provided transport and
participated in the meetings.
Every Saturday the pioneers would gather, first at Tixie Mabizela’s house. Then at
Fatima’s place, and partly learn about the history and the politics of the ANC partly
training dances and songs and participating in cultural activities.
The Youth was the active body that gave life and dynamics to the cultural activities . A
lot has already been said about the failure of the students to be disciplined and complete
their academic career, but they were in the forefront when it came to culture.
Tommy explains:
We started organising ourselves into a cohesive unit. Culturally we were superb.
We had political meetings as students. The ANC had become a representative
organisation in Maputo in the student body. So we were invited to several
activities....
And we had visits from the late Oliver Tambo. We were privileged. From the
political front it was excellent, excellent, undeniably so. We were in each and every
activity: In every Commemorations of the ANC we had big numbers coming, I
should think the big attraction was when we had activities. We had Ed Wetli doing
gumboots with us at cinema Gil Vicente. All the student bodies, cultural, singing,
what have you, I still have the pictures of those. It was the biggest vibe. The whole
cinema was packed. But I should think the ANC at the end of the day gained the
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recognition that it desired. With the students, we were the ambassadors here. We
did everything we could. But on the academic side there were problems
I guess Tommy mentions Ed in particular, because he was the white exception. The
Johnny Clegg who could dance the gumboots as well as any Black. And I remember my
own hesitation. I wanted to join the cultural group. I was very much encouraged by the
comrades. But of course I knew like everybody else that I had not grown up in that
musical and dancing culture. I felt shy. Unworthy is perhaps a strong word. And yet I felt
the necessity for all of us regardless of colour to be involved in the cultural activities. I
never discussed it with Ed at the time. He was so obviously good. He didn’t need to
question his participation.
During those first five years where Mozambique had struggled with its own survival and
building up of socialism, despite the country’s own poverty, they had made it possible for
the ANC to get an infrastructure in place with which to face the neighbouring enemy.
For the last five years, the ANC had been able to make Mozambique their home, had
built up their structures, above ground as well as underground. We had given our lives
into the hands of the Mozambican people, and our lives had been more or less stable
progressing in a fair amount of peace. Not so for Frelimo. The country had since its
Independence in 1975 constantly been attacked by the Rhodesian forces, and although
Frelimo had taken the courageous stand of maintaining the UN sanctions against
Rhodesia, (with an estimated cost of $556 million) and had taken in refugees and
guerrillas, they were near to exhaustion, and the signing of the Lancaster Agreement in
1980 was a huge relief to the country.
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Chapter Three
The Realities of War: ANC Operatives in Mozambique
Five years into Independence. The Lancaster House Agreement signed. Hopes for end of
banditry from Rhodesia’s war. Finally, the possibility of focusing on the social and
economic development of the country….
When on 30 January 1981, the Matola raid exploded and quelled all immediate hopes.
Everything was chaos that night.
Mabena or Matthews Thobela, as was his real name, survived to tell the story:
When I went to Mozambique, I stayed in Matola just on the outskirts of Maputo.
Then they came on the 30th of January 198. I nearly got a shock. The
commanders like Obadi and Soli Mayona were playing scrabble.I was reading a
book. The book is entitled Studying: Siege. Reading that book I found myself in a
Siege that night. All surrounded. It is night. Then I heard a bang. Lots of bullets.
Now there is shooting everywhere. Put the book down and peeped through the
window. I saw those people. They were nicely painted with black polish. When I
look at them, those people are firing at us.
Then I said, these people if they are shooting at our house, I shoot back also
because you can’t accept the shooting and you keep quiet, no. I shoot back. Then
I fired back at these people. Then I managed to repel them. Then I came out of the
roof. Then I said, no I am not going out of the roof. Let me try and defend the
house. They must not enter the house. That was too late for me then. They shot
me down. With four bullets. One in my chest, abdomen, in the thigh. Then I
thought, oh my god, because my belief was that when you are shot at you die.
That was my belief. Only to find it was not like that. They shot me. I went down into
the stairs. I started thinking I am dying now. But I was not yet dead. Then I
returned back to the room upstairs. I took my weapon. I was bleeding. I said no.
These people are so many. I could hear even a person that was commanding.
I am bleeding now. I am losing energy. I say, my God, I once dreamed that I was
shot in Mozambique, and it happens now. My dream comes true. Then I walked at
about a distance of 500 m. I got help from somebody who fetched a car to take me
to hospital. When I was going towards the hospital, they had already killed a
certain Portuguese citizen. When we get on, I am still bleeding, we get to the
roadblock of Frelimo. They have arrested Lennox. They said, where is he going?
Lennox had come to reinforce us. There was hell when they hit.
Those people who attacked they were cutting the ears of my comrades. I always
described them as mercenaries, because they were being paid for it. If a South
African soldier comes from an operation he must prove that he killed one of the
terrorists, then he gets paid. That is why I call them mercenaries. That night I slept
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in hospital. Then people came to give me courage. The president came. Yes, even
Samora Machel came to see us. Consoling us very nicely. Then I said, my god.
Now, my friends are dead. Twelve people have been killed. Friends I know.
They were killed in the different houses, for instance there was Khanyile in the
SACTU house. We were in this house. They called it Terror-nest, because it had
been in the newspaper before they came to shoot us there. (laughs) They called it
terror-nest. That is where everything was. And then... we were ten in the house.
They were 200 when they were attacking.
When they were coming to the stairs, I shot, all the time. Basically I never keep
them alone, because what they do, they collect their corpses. They don’t want any
evidence left behind.
They found about eight AK-rifles fully. I can no longer tell you, but that chap I killed
was a British officer, Mike Hedgerson, I know the man because when I came out of
hospital, the family from Britain was coming to negotiate the release of the corps.
He was a communication man. Signal, in military terms. A military chap. A
mercenary. I did not see him face to face.
What I have learned in that attack, I have learned that a friend of yours, you sit with
him here, and twenty minutes after he is dead. I had to live with all those things.
Because somewhere sometime... you sit down alone. You remember them.
Mabena became a hero for us. He did not only survive, but he killed one of the Boers.
This is how experienced the Matola attack. But we still have to know the whole context.
During the big rally that took place at Independence Square on 14 February 1981 with the
presence of the ANC President Oliver Tambo, Samora Machel, deeply affected and
personally shocked and angry, took the audience through the events with a military
precision:
What happened?
On January 30, at about one o’clock in the morning, a South African commando
group, which included Rhodesian mercenaries, attacked three houses where
militants of the ANC and South African trade unionists were living.
These commandos penetrated our country at about 23.00 hours, violating our
border in the Pangane region, 11 kilometres south of Ressano Garcia. They used
a dirt road and then came on to the Namaacha-Maputo road.
The racist commandos had their hands and faces painted black. They had lorries
similar to our military trucks. They spread iron spikes on the road to puncture the
tyres of cars which might come after them.
On arrival in Maputo , the enemy commandos blocked the road at two points, one
between the Radio Mozambique transmitter and the bridge at Matola, the other at
the crossroads for Bairro do Fomento.
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It was here that they killed a Portuguese citizen, a cooperante with Electricidade
de Moçambique, who was returning from an inspection of the electric lines. A
peaceful cooperante who was working with us in the reconstruction of
Mozambique.
At the first house, the racist commandos used the trick of presenting themselves
as FPLM soldiers who had come to speak to the ANC elements. As soon as they
came out the commandos told them to put up their hands and began to shoot.
Through the action of the guards, a number of South African racist commandos
were eliminated. Four of them were killed and one was wounded. The body of one
commando was abandoned.
We captured five weapons, two radio transmitters, grenades and a variety of
ammunition.
At the second house, which belonged to SACTU, the commandos of the minority
regime stopped their lorries and opened fire with bazookas and grenades which
destroyed the houses and killed the occupants. As they withdrew they placed
booby-trap explosives at the exits from the house.
At the third residence, the commandos cut the telephone wires, blocked the doors
of neighbouring houses and opened fire from the street with bazookas and
grenades, killing all the occupants. They then took books and magazines from the
house.
In the three residences, the enemy commandos murdered 12 militants of the ANC
and the South African trade unionists. The aggression lasted an hour.
At the end of the action the commands withdrew via Machava, making their exit
along the railway line. They left Mozambique through the region of Pangane near
Ressano Garcia, where they had entered. They left at 5 o’clock. They were
supported in the action by aircraft which accompanied them until Movene and
backed them up again during their withdrawal.
Samora then turned the accusation against Frelimo.
First, we underestimated the enemy. With the end of the war in Rhodesia there
grew a general feeling that finally there was peace in our country. We relaxed. We
stopped being vigilant and lowered the level of mobilisation. Second, we let the
enemy penetrate breaches which existed and take advantage of weaknesses. The
enemy used the vices and the shortcomings of some elements of the defence and
security forces.
And at the end, he pointed at a number of traitors present at the comicio, those who had
‘opened the door’ to the South African attack. One by one we got their names and where
they had been affected in the Mozambican system and how they had cooperated with the
South African regime. Eight of them.
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Samora: Fellow Countrymen, These and other criminal enemy agents will be
taken to the Revolutionary Military Tribunal for trials as soon as the investigation is
complete.
Tommy tells about the funeral of the victims:
They were all taken to Maputo Central Hospital Mortuary and later buried in
Llanguene. I remember that Cde Lennox and Cde Zuma instituted a funeral
committee composed of the late Cde Bogaert, Enos, myself…. and Jay. Our task
was to deal with protocol for the funeral arrangements, to see that the corpses and
the coffins are there and also to dress them, if it is possible. I had only seen a dead
person once in my life. And that was not something shocking. It was somebody
who looked like sleeping. And this time, here I was, with my compatriots, my
comrades, given a task of taking care of this gory sight. We went to the mortuary. It
was an unsightly set up. Blood all over. Comrades with cranium blasted off.
Disfigured. What was strange also is that after a week in the mortuary, they were
still bleeding. I could not understand this.
(only later would Tommy find about the temperature in the mortuary due to lack of
electricity and what happened to the corpses kept there)
Then we had a briefing with Cde Oliver Tambo that we had already arranged as to
how the coffins should be laid out for viewing, because members of the diplomatic
corps in Mozambique and government officials were also going to participate in the
funeral.
Cde Oliver Tambo said: The corpses of the comrades should be left as they are.
There should be no changes, filling up of empty craniums. They should be left as
they are so as to show the barbarity and the brutality of apartheid. Comrade
Krishner, an Indian comrade, when we picked up the corpse, the legs, the toes
were falling off, seemingly he was burned with napalm. I did not know what it was,
but for me it was strange to see the toes dangling, hanging on sinews.
There was nothing we could do. We carried these comrades in the shroud, and we
could see that things were bad. They were all ... Most of them were disfigured. You
could see that they were shot at close range. And then we laid the coffins open. It
was a huge funeral. Very huge. It was well attended. And you could see anger in
the face of late Comrade Oliver Tambo precisely because of the barbarity of the
whole set up. People could not contain themselves. Hundreds upon hundreds
Mozambicans were shocked to their roots to see this...the state in which the late
comrades were. The coffins were open, and there was viewing of the corpses, but
really it was not a viewing of the corpses. You had a very unsaintly set up. In a
normal situation you would not have allowed people to see what they were seeing.
The funeral took place. It was a long cortege...I remember I was driving a
motorbike, I had a motorbike, so at the same time I acted as a traffic officer, to stop
the cars. The Mozambicans assisted, when we reached the cemetery.
We had a choir. The comrades who were preparing cultural activities, the students,
the community, there was a well co-ordinated team with their choir with songs,
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revolutionary songs, really sombre songs, touching at the core of one’s heart. All
the coffins were shroud in ANC colours’ flags.
Everything went well. The whole funeral was well planned. It would be seen as if
we had this experience, but it was something that was done at the spell of that
moment. We were told to do the best we were capable of doing in order to show
our organisational capacity. It was a young team, we were young comrades who
were dealing with this huge responsibility with the little bit of experience that we got
from the elderly comrades like comrade Bogaert...
And then Comrade Oliver Tambo made a speech. I can’t remember the content,
but I remember the key words: ‘We shall revenge.’ It was a passionate speech
punctuated by the political programme of the ANC that you cannot kill people who
are sleeping. You cannot kill defenceless people. It was an emotional set up. Then
we left the cemetery and went to wash our hands at Internal (see p. ).
Tommy had nightmares long time after seeing corpses, blood, naked bones, muscles. He
wished there had been some form of therapy, but every one had to go through the healing
process on their own.
But it solidified the relationship between the ANC and the Mozambicans. A Mozambican
musician by the name of Yana wrote a song: Que venham.’ (Let them come) which
became a very popular song and a slogan which Samora used. Let them come, and we
will defy them and defeat them.
Matola became a landmark. It became a rallying point, and also it became an important
landmark in terms of our relations with the government of Mozambique
Speaking at the funeral, Oliver Tambo said that the War was on between the South
African Regime and the neighbouring states and the ANC. From all over the globe
declarations of horror and rejection came in. However, the US under the new Reagan
administration had ‘no comments’. The British Foreign Office (under Margaret Thatcher)
also declined to comment.
One of the eight FPML people who had been exposed during the Comicio after the Raid
was Captain Chivite, from the Ministry of Security. He was found guilty of having fed
the US Embassy with information.
This led to the expulsion of six American citizens, four of which were employed at the
American Embassy for being part of a CIA spy network linked to South Africa.
Interestingly enough, the US State Department did not deny the espionage activities of
the CIA in Mozambique.. One of the expelled, Fred Wettering, a CIA spy in Maputo, was
later appointed to the US National Security Council by Reagan.
The Mozambican step was quite brave and led, obviously, to an American decision to
halt aid to the country.
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Luís Cabaço, who until 1980 had been Minister of Transport and therefore had dealt
with the Rhodesian attacks in the central parts of the country was very close to Samora
Machel. He explains that in 1979-1980 Samora is so involved in reorganising the party
and making ten year plans, because he is adamant in wanting to create economic
development for his country:
Cabaco: Neste processo, Africa do Sul nao cabía, porque ele queria transformar e
fazer transformação realmente. Queria fazer o arranque do processo de
desenvolvimento do pais e se ele tomasse consideração à variavel África do Sul
não podia.
Então ele ficou a dizer: Não, os sulafricanos não vão ser tão estúpidos que vão
meter-se numa guerra contra nos. Vão manter esta politica... ignorando e não
analisando. Foi uma coisa que nos não analisamos correctamente na altura qual
teria sido a alteração da estrutura no poder de Africa do Sul com o famoso
Muldergate Scandal quando o Botha tomou o poder de Vorster. Não houve
efectivamente uma análise correcta sobre O que significou a mudança do poder
em Africa do Sul? a passagem do poder das seguranças para o poder dos
militares. E foi um erro muito grave. Consideramos que a Africa do Sul no ia
intervir. Consideramos que não havendo vontade de Africa do Sul de fazer uma
politica de confrontação com Mocambique, a Renamo morria.
Quando em 1981, janeiro 81, os sulafricanos fazem o ataque a Matola onde
mataram os camarados do ANC, Samora ficou furioso, ficou furioso porque sentiase um pouco traido na sua análise.
Porque ele sabia que se não havia um desenvolvimento económico do pais, a
revolução estava em perigo, porque as pessoas, se não veem um resultado do
sacrificio que fazem, desistem de fazer o sacrificio.
A politica de Samora sempre foi ... por um lado ele sabia que uma confrontação
directa era desastrosa para Mocambique, porque não tinhamos as capacidades
militares para fazer isso, por outro lado sempre considerou que era possivel
convencer o governo sulafricano de uma alternativa a uma politica de
estabilização em geral.
One year after the attack, on 14 February 1982, a rally was held in Bairro da Liberdade
where both presidents, Samora Machel and Oliver Tambo were present. Joe Slovo was
there, Mabote and many other leaders. This was to commemorate the Matola massacre
and the spirit of the first big rally a year earlier. The 14th of February was declared the
Day of Friendship between the Mozambican and the South African peoples. One of these
commemorative dates that we never let pass by without celebrating it.
But we would soon come to realise that Matola was not a one off attack. A month after
the rally, on the 14th of March, the apartheid regime bombed the ANC’s London Office.
Also in March around 100 South African soldiers crossed the border at the tourist resort
of Ponta de Ouro, South of Maputo. One Mozambican soldier was killed and two white
South Africans soldiers, of whom one was carried back to South Africa.
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Towards the end of the year 81, from December to January of 82 there were eleven
recorded violations of Mozambican airspace by South African aircrafts over the southern
provinces of Maputo and Gaza. The South African military was sending in weapons,
supplies, mercenaries to support the MNR and carry out aerial espionage.
A few months later, South African forces again tried to cross the border. This time near
Ressano Garcia. When they were discovered they retreated leaving a lot of their
equipment behind.
In July a Mozambican pilot, Bomba, defected in a MIG 17 to South Africa and asked for
political asylum. A pilot trained in the Soviet Union in 1976-79. In November five enemy
agents were captured in a Maputo suburb believed to plan sabotage on the bridge of the
Matola River.
And more and more foreign workers were being kidnapped or killed by the bandits.
On the 17th of August, Ruth First was killed when she opened a parcel in her office in
the Centre of African Studies.
A lot has been said and written about Ruth. Her academic and political capacity. Her
journalistic courage. Particularly known is her work about the exploitation of the Potatocultivators in the Northern part of South Africa. Her ninety days ordeal in solitary
confinement. Her private life. Whether she was a good mother. And how her marriage
with Joe Slovo was performing. Their political differences particularly in regard to the
role of the Soviet type of communism. Her elegance and her Italian shoes. A lot has also
been written about the incidence itself. The super spy Craig Williamson has taken
responsibility for the killing and did not really care whether the bomb killed her or Joe
Slovo.
We worked and lived with her. When we got the news of her death we could not believe
it. I was one of the first people who got the message of what had happened to Ruth. I
drove to where Alpheus’ meeting was being held and informed the comrades. At this
time Joe had already been rushed to the Centre to see the pieces of his wife splashed on
the wall. Three other people had been taken to the Hospital in more or less serious
condition because they had been next to her when she opened what looked to be a parcel
with books: Aquino de Braganca, the director of the Centre, Bridget O’Laughlin, Ruth’
close colleague and Pallo Jordan, a visiting ANC intellectual who had participated in a
UNESCO seminar organised by the Centre.
During the next couple of days we literally moved into the house of Joe Slovo, we, the
women of the ANC to take care of all the practical arrangements around the multitude of
people who in the occasion were allowed inside the military protected area to come and
give their condolences to Joe. Their three daughters arrived from London. And so did
Ruth’s mother. And one high powered Frelimo delegation after the other visited the
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house. The University organised an outdoor commemoration during which Albie made a
beautiful tribute to Ruth.
But two events stand out in my mind as the most powerful memories.
The day after her assassination I had to go to my classes of Psychology. I wanted to
cancel the classes. I just couldn’t prepare for them. Instead, I went to my students. I told
them what had happened. As if I needed to. They all knew, and they also all knew that I
was ANC, that my husband worked with Ruth and that she was therefore a close friend.
There was a silence of sympathy and anger. Then I took up Ruth First’s book aobut her
90 days’ Solitary Confinement. I gave them a brief introduction about who Ruth was and
then I read a chapter and some paragraphs that I had chosen. They were still dead silent,
and they noticed every shaking in my voice, any little treacherous tear that was appearing
in my eyes. I felt relieved. They had been with me all through.
When the day of the funeral came, I was at the graveyard together with the other ANC
comrades, but all of a sudden, I see the whole group of students whom I had read to that
day, get out of a bus and join the multitude of participants. They drifted slowly towards
me, made a little sad and respectful signal to me, just to make sure I had seen them, and
disappeared amongst the crowd. At that moment I understand something that I, with my
cultural background had never understood before. I had until then always felt that it was a
bit exaggerated when people always had to go to their neighbours’/colleague’s relatives’
funeral. In this moment I felt how important it was that people expressed their sympathy
not only to the dead one, but to the mourner. Of all the classes I have had over the years,
my relationship with this one class, became totally different from relationships to other
classes.
The other event in relation to Ruth’ death which became printed in my mind for ever was
that Dollar Brand had arrived for his first concert in Mozambique. It had been planned for
a long time. We were looking forward very much and had learned not to call him
anything but Abdullah Ibrahim. He was now a Moslem, and he wanted to be respected
under this name. A colleague of mine, an Italian cooperante with artistic genes, had
produced a poster for the ANC and for the occasion. I still remember that—in the spirit of
those time’s collectivism—she didn’t want her name to be on the poster, and Alpheus had
had nearly to force her to add her name. So (Mariella) Baldo was added in the bottom
right corner of the poster and we were ready for the big visit.
With Abdullah Ibrahim was also his wife, Satima.
Then Ruth was killed.
After some consideration by the planning committee who was considering cancelling the
joyous event because of the assassination, they made the beautiful decision of holding the
concert and dedicating it totally to Ruth First. It took place in the Theatre Gil Vicente.
The hall was packed. On the first floor a number of Mozambican ministers and
dignitaries. And Abdullah Ibrahim entered the stage. His wife had produced a song for
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this specific occasion. It is the most amazing concert I have ever listened to. His piano.
The saxophone. The song. How powerful music can be and how uniting between the
musicians and the audience.
A message, a poem from Bridget at the hospital was read. Bridget was pregnant. We
didn’t know it at the time. But six months later a little girl was born. A little Ruth.
Obviously, a little Ruth. She is now in her twenties, but still reminds us of who gave her
that name.
The killing of Ruth was not the last atrocity.
Nearly at the same time two ANC houses in Namaacha were attacked and destroyed.
We had hardly licked our wounds before the Boers went for the ANC again in Maseru on
the 10th of December. 12 residences were attacked in Maseru and 42 people massacre.
A number of survivors came to Maputo. The most famous of those was Dimpo Hani who
after some time of recuperation started working in the same place as Dan Tsakane at
Radio Mozambique. It goes without saying that her husband Chris Hani, was a frequent
visitor and even a resident in Maputo although in a discrete, underground manner, with
his work still linked to Lusaka and to Lesotho.
And on May 23,1983 the horrible air raid on a jam factory in Matola by eight IMPALA
fighter bombers and six mirages. The South African regime claimed that it had attacked
‘ANC bases’ in Matola. In fact the targets which suffered damage were a factory, one
reed hut near the Matola bridge, and 14 houses, occupied by Mozambicans. Of the
houses, only three had, in the past, been inhabited by South African refugees.
It showed how outdated the SA Intelligence service information was.
On May 30 a drone was shot down over Maputo Bay.
When the plane was found the next day, it turned out to be a RPV (Remotely Piloted
Vehicle) of Israeli origin supplied with a powerful camera in its fuselage used for air
spying. This was the event Bram was talking about. Everybody just fled when the
Mozambican Military started sending rockets to shoot it down. Our daughter also. She
was on her way from school. Threw her bicycle to the side of the road and ran for the
nearest house to seek shelter. Nobody knew what was going on. Was it a new South
African attack?
In October 1983 our ANC office off Mao Tse Tung was bombed in the early morning. It
was the notorious spy, Dutoit - later caught by the MPLA in Cabinda and imprisoned –
who had climbed to the roof and planted three explosive devices which detonated
simultaneously. Four ANC members were injured and admitted to hospital. The
explosion blasted large holes in the roof of the building and blew part of the wall
surrounding the roof into the street.
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When the big student exodus started after 1976 and quite a number of leaders came out
from long term prison sentences also in the mid seventies, it was obvious that the ANC
did not have an organised network inside the country. It had to a large extent been
suffocated by the regime. A radical decision was therefore taken by the leadership in
exile, to start from scratch, as if no mechanism existed inside South Africa. The few
structures which had survived in the forward areas (that is countries adjacent to South
Africa) were completely reshuffled.
In October 1978 an ANC delegation headed by Oliver Tambo visited Vietnam. This trip
left a big impression on O.R. as well as on Joe Slovo in particular in regard to the work of
the underground armed struggle during the US occupation, especially the co-ordination
between illegal and mass activities They learned that one of the reasons for the Vietcong
successes was a total separation of the military and political operations. During the period
a change of structures in the ANC took place and big debate followed about whether or
not to follow the Vietnamese pattern. Some argued for this model, particularly Joe Slovo,
others argued that although it was a wise decision for units working inside the country,
the work in the frontline areas had to be flexible and although each unit should do their
own work there would be overlapping.
By the beginning of 1978 the number of Umkhonto fighters outside South Africa was
growing fast.
By 1979 the Umkhonto Headquarters consisted of its Head, Joe Modise, his deputy, Joe
Slovo, and five members. While in 1977 the Head, his Deputy and the Revolutionary
Council were stationed in Angola, in March Joe Modise was transferred to Lusaka to lead
the operations from there, especially those operating in the Western Transvaal and the
Eastern Cape, as well as the group sent to Zimbabwean territory. Joe Slovo was sent to
Maputo with particular responsibility for operations in the Eastern Transvaal, Northern
Transvaal, Northern Natal and Central ‘urban’ Transvaal. Some areas of the country,
including the Orange Free State, were the responsibility of the group in Lesotho, headed
by Chris Hani.
The growth of Umkhonto’s strength and of its actions brought about the formation of one
more Department within the Revolutionary Council, that of Ordnance. The task of
providing the fighters with arms for training and for operations was a difficult one. In
February 1979 its cores structure consisted of just three people. This Department was also
moved from Angola to Lusaka.
Ordnance is not well known as an operational unit. Yet it was one of the most important
of the five cornerstones of the struggle. Its first head was Mavili Masondo. Later on
Jacob Zuma headed it, and then Cassius Make.
The deal with the Eastern countries was that all weapons were delivered in Angola, in the
harbour of Luanda. From there it was the task of the ANC to take it where ever needed.
First to the Front Line states and then into the country. A major task. Sometimes
thousands of kilometres. The first very active group were the women. When security was
not very tight, and the knowledge that even women could participate in the struggle was
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not widely acknowledged. They would simply take a couple of AKs under their skirt or
hide guns or ammunition in their baskets and then walk across borders without being
interfered with. Some of these women, walking long distances, from Angola to
Botswana, from Botswana into the country, have not been recognised for what they did.
But they played a pivotal role in getting the weapon to where they were needed.
For Mozambique there were several routes. It differed according to what counter
measures the Apartheid Regime had set up, and it differed according to how the
relationship with the Mozambican authorities was at a particular point in time.
One of them was the long stretch, in old cars and busses from Luanda to Zambia. From
Zambia to the Tete Province, and then to Maputo.
Rachid (who will be introduced in a later chapter) says:
In terms of equipment supply lines were created that were running both over land
and by air, from Angola into Mozambique and from Angola into Zambia by road
and from there by road, from Zambia into Botswana, from Zambia also by road
through Mozambique, the North and then down to the South by road to Maputo.( It
was carried in )Vehicles with special compartments that could hide the equipment.
Later when the operation became very difficult because of Renamo incursions, that
was when most was sent by air.
At the very early stage, Zuma was head of Ordnance (76-77). Over the years they
also created a Command in Mozambique which Zuma was part of. And J. S. (Joe
Slovo) had a Regional Military Council operating from that area as well. They
started creating these lines, because part of the arrangement was that they would
start influencing the Mozambicans and also find contacts at the airport. Kate
(whom Zuma later married) was one of the contacts. Excellent network was
operating at the airport. The ANC luggage was not searched.
The weapons were mostly of Soviet origin. Some from the GDR and a bit from
Bulgaria, but everything was brought by the Soviet military ships to Angola and it
was the responsibility of the ANC to carry the stuff from Angola.
Initially the South African regime did not know what was going on. It was only as
they arrested more and more people who told them about it. That is when the
Regime started putting a lot of pressure on the Front-line states to act against
them.
From the Front Line States, in this case, Mozambique, it got distributed to the many ANC
houses, or to Mozambican houses or to the international cooperantes. Some had a few
weapon, others had a whole arsenal of weaponry that with regular intervals got taken out
and the store filled up.
The Chambale House in Sommerschield was one of these houses. It was lying in a quiet
area where few people would visit.
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Sertorio: That house was specially meant for very sensitive people, that means
people who the Boers were looking for. When they came into Mozambique they
had to be processed, they had to get passports and things. While they were still
waiting, they could stay in my house for the first two or three weeks until everything
is clear, and they could be transported from Sommerschield to the airport and then
to Tanzania or to Zambia or wherever.
We also did have people for a long time. More than a month or two or three, but
that was an exception. Because another thing with our house in Sommerschield
was that it was where we received the materials. We had that attic on the top floor.
So Guebuza’s cell would go to the Russian military department and they would
collect all these guns, landmines and stuff, unprepared, in boxes, and would come
with them, unpack them in Sommerschield and pack and prepare those that
needed preparation. We would prepare them or put them together and get them
ready, because while the consignment is in Sommerschield, then the following day
or the following week, it has to be taken to Swaziland, and that is when we took
some of it and up to the border with Swaziland.
We were part of the transport. So it was receiving, preparing, and transporting it to
Swaziland. Even during my wedding, there was almost a big scare of fiasco. I left
here on 24 or 23 December. My wedding was on 27 December 1985. I had a
mission in Swaziland And I left Maputo with a group of ANC comrades. But when
we got to Namaacha we all separated. When I appeared, I understood from the
whole procedure that the Swazis had people observing Who is Who crossing the
border. And when they looked at my passport, they were convinced that I was a
South African.
The car had already passed. It was only me and my passport that they were
suspecting. So when these people crossed and got to in Mbabane, they phoned
Maputo saying that I had been detained, and the word went to Sommerschield, so
everybody was crying, they didn’t know what was happening. I finally continued to
Mbabane the following morning.
I had my mission to meet somebody in a lodge in Swaziland, and I did meet with
him. I did the shopping of what I wanted for my wedding, and came back. And only
when I arrived in Sommerschield…on 25 or 26, everybody was standing there:
What has happened? Where were you? I had not imagined in my mind that these
people could have known that I was in trouble, and I didn’t imagine that somebody
would phone, but the word already got to Sommerschield.
The House in Sommerschield was supposed to be totally secret.
But of course the general events of a family took place where they had to take place. So
did the wedding of Marleine and Sertorio. We did all the normal stuff of a wedding. The
bedrooms of the big house were full of visitors who had come from South Africa and
with all their beauty outfit ran from room to room. They did not know that there were
special areas that were only for ANC stuff. And I am sure that the house was clean and
empty for anything suspicious. There were some other ANC comrades there. First of all
Sertorio’s friends from Beira, Mike and Ruth Muller. Afterwards they got a big scolding
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from somebody from the political leadership for having attended the wedding and thereby
‘revealed’ the secret house. Some times the ANC got it very wrong. If the wedding was
watched by the Boers, would they not have been even more suspicious if Sertorio had a
wedding without his best and closest friends?
The house had a ground floor, a first floor, and an attic. The attic became more or less an
ANC floor. This is where the weapons were stored. This is where the military had their
meetings. This is where comrades went into hiding for shorter or longer periods of time.
Basically it was out of reach of the family except to help providing the food and services
that the comrades might need.
Sertorio: We were very aware that we could be attacked, but we were very sure
that Sommerschield was very safe. Very few people knew what was happening
there. And it was very senior and very few people who used the house.
I never went to collect the consignment. Somebody collected it [...] He is now with
the SA police, he is with the Special Forces, in Mozambique and border SA. His
real name is George, but we used to call him Nduduza. Tall guy... He was the one
who used to bring the stuff, and alternating with Guebuza or Viva or Siswa, they
were the only ones. He used to park the car in Sommerschield, play music, as if
nothing is happening and I know by that time that my wife Marleine is not home,
and we pull out the sacks, carry them upstairs, start unpacking, preparing
everythingtogether.
Sertorio didn’t know where the weapon came from although he had an idea. He only
knew that at such and such a time he must get out of the house and make sure that the rest
of the family also got out. When the weapons had been delivered, it was his task together
with some of the military cadres to get it ready for shooting. He quickly learned how the
different weapons had to be assembled, that detonators are kept apart and how to classify
them. He didn’t have any military training as such a part from the ad hoc training he got
with his ANC cell when he was at High School in South Africa. When he married, and
his wife, Marleine, moved into the house, she did not know very much about her
husband’s activities, and she certainly did not know that there were weapons in the house.
Sertorio: Even Marleine took a long time to realise what we were doing. (laughs).
And when she discovered, she nearly abandoned the house. She said, I would
rather go and live with my Mum in Chamanculo. For the whole first year after the
wedding everything was very secretive.
She knew I had South African connections. Beyond that she didn’t know anything.
And when she discovered, it was really a trauma for her, a trauma, because in fact
the way she discovered... was when there was this explosion at the Payol.
The whole of Maputo panicked when an ammunition centre in the outskirts of the City
blew up and the smoke and fire was belching over the city making people run and flee in
all directions in the streets of Maputo. It was an accident, but that is not how it was
understood.
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Sertorio: That same week, or that same month we had some young boys, very,
very dangerous boys that the police wanted in South Africa. They were living with
us. On that day somehow when the Payol started, these boys started panicking.
They were young boys.
They started praying what what what, went up, opened to the attic. They wanted to
take a gun to defend themselves. We had a feeling that a battalion is just
approaching…and that is when Marleine discovered we had landmines, bazookas,
pistols… What is happening? I said: Just calm down. She was expecting Kensane,
our first child. The truth is that it took a long time before Marleine could realise.
And it took a long time for her to know that those people were not just ordinary
friends and South Africans who were coming in and out.
Sertorio’s commander and contact person was Lennox at the beginning, and then
Guebuza. He was in the same structure as Zuma, but hardly ever dealt directly with him.
He knew of a few other comrades working in the same group, like Viva, who was later
killed in Swaziland, but he was told not to refer to any other comrade. He had a good
friend among the ANC comrades, September. And once Guebuza was away September
tried to prompt information from Sertório, tried to get him to help in certain matters.
Since September was a very liked and trusted comrade and since he was a good friend of
Sertorio’s, it would have felt natural to discuss with him. But fortunately for Sertorio, his
instructions were clear, and he did not give any information to September. Later, when
September became an askari, Sertorio was very happy that he didn’t cede to September’s
demands. His activities and the activities of his house in Sommerschield were not
revealed.
Sertorio’s father, Antonio, also continued to work for the ANC. Above board he got a job
as a driver for the Soviet Embassy. Later he got a job for a Swedish firm. In both cases he
got a car and he was allowed to take it home after work. There were therefore ample
possibilities to drive to the border and collect comrades who were jumping the fence and
that was one of the ways that the military continued to use him. Sertorio is quite sure that
his employers knew what he was doing.
For a short time the father moved to Swaziland where a sister served him as a legend. He
was to work with Paul Dikeledi and Cassius Make who were completely underground.
Sertorio: He was the one doing the logistics and worked as their driver. He even
had a passport and a permit to work in Swaziland. Once he accompanied some
comrades to the border. And I think the Swazis had been observing his
movements. That’s when they arrested him.
They wanted to know, what is happening? The police suspected: Old man, what
are you doing here? But they could not really pin him down to something. They
took him to Mbabane Central Prison, and he was detained there for a few days.
And he told them: guys, just take me to Mozambique, I have nothing to do with
whatever you are thinking. I am an old man, and I am trying to make ends meet.
And his sister was in Swaziland, my aunt. He was officially living with my aunt. So
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after some time they deported him to Namaacha. And we went to Namaacha to
receive him there. They handed him to the police and they said: Oh, old man,
welcome. No story, no docket, nothing. So he came back to Mozambique.
Carla Mendes-Motau is another example of a Mozambican who stored weapon for the
Movement. Carla and her family.
Carla was born in Maputo 1961 in Marracuene. She moved to Maputo in 1977 to further
her education. She met Paul through a comrade Joe, who was to have married her sister
but was killed in the ANC house in Namaacha in 1978. It was the same year that she met
Paul. At first he was a family friend. Then she became pregnant and had their first child
in 79 and married the next year.
Paul had come to the family house with other comrades. The parents opened their arms to
these children without a home, a country, anybody to love them. Not only to Paul. Also to
Soli Smelani. and others. Paul was 22 when they met. The comrades would take her and
her sisters and brothers to football matches.
When she married Paul in 1980. ‘I also married the package that came with him, that was
the struggle’ she says laughingly. The whole family got involved. The cars that used to
take the arms into the country were all ‘done’ in her parents’ house. The cars would come
from South Africa or Swaziland to Maputo. They would change the number plates. They
would go into the garage in the evening. Her father, two younger brothers, and at the time
12-14 family members would help her dad with the cars, stuff the things. She also got
involved. And the sisters. Her eldest sister would accommodate comrades from Zambia
on their way to South Africa. ‘It became a family business, this ANC thing’.
They moved into their own house in 1981, a house with a basement. It became a rest
house of the ANC. Meetings were held there. So many comrades living with her. The
basement was full of arms. Dangerous stuff like bombs and all sorts of things. People
used to say that if the Boers got to know about this house, if this house was attacked, the
whole Maputo would be destroyed.
Carla does not know where they got the arms from.
‘We were not supposed to ask questions. See and be quiet’.
The year after their marriage was the Matola attack. She was staying in Matola, in
Hanyane. Very close to where it happened. She saw all of it. When the thing started, Paul
went to check the houses, to see what had happened. He was on his way to Maputo when
he met the Land Rover, where the Portuguese guy was killed. He turned back, but
managed to go to Maputo and Carla only saw him the next day. She couldn’t sleep. Was
shaking, until she saw him in the morning when he came and told her that so many
comrades had died, Obade and others. And she knew all of them.
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During this period the Mozambicans were still turning a blind eye to what the military
was doing. There was a close collaboration between Ordnance and the Military. The
material came through Ordnance. When the Military needed material to go to Swaziland
or to Mozambique, they got it from Ordnance. Then the Military would camouflage the
material for transportation or jumped with it into Swaziland. Then they took it to SA,
either in hidden compartments or with people. The Military then was in charge of
‘infiltrating’ people who had finished their military training, and to maintain
communication links with them often in coded messages. They set up depots and Dead
Letter Boxes (DLB), and they got people out of the country. They had units inside South
Africa that were operating under their command.
If we want to get an understanding of the life of the Military in Mozambique Guebuza’s
reflects the situation. He became a prominent MK or Umkhonto we Sizwe cadre, but
many of the other fighters had lives similar to his. When he returned to a free South
Africa, Guebuza took his real name back and as Siphiwe Nyanda became Chief of Staff
of the new South African Army.
Guebuza left SA in 76, about February, before the outbreak of the Soweto riots. He was
recruiting for the ANC while he was working as a journalist in Johannesburg. He was
born, grew up and studied in this city. He went to University for a brief spell, but was
expelled while he was studying for a science degree. Hen then went into journalism and
worked for different newspapers, including as a sports journalist. It was during this time
that he went for a visit to Mozambique trying to get in contact with the ANC after the
Portuguese defeat and Mozambique’s subsequent independence, while Machel was still
coming down from Cabo Delgado to the South on his trip from Rovuma to Maputo in
1975. He first got in contact with the ANC in Swaziland and then in Mozambique.
In December of 1975 Guebuza was instructed to leave the country, because people felt
that his situation was too vulnerable. And in February 1976 he left the country through
Swaziland, to Mozambique and Tanzania. He then went for training in the GDR for one
year and came back the following year. In 1977 he was back in the country for a brief
spell. The leadership sent him back to try and strengthen the underground that was
prepared to come out of the country. That is when the leadership decided to form the
‘machineries’.
He first worked in the Transvaal Urban as a commissar, and when the commander of the
machinery died, Guebuza became the commander of the unit in 1977-78. He reported to
the Central Head Quarter where at first Lennox Lagu was the chief of staff and Joe Slovo
was the Commissar.
As the commander of the Transvaal Urban Machinery Guebuza lived in a residence in
Bairro da Liberdade where the people of his unit were being prepared. Each machinery
had their house. The air craft bombing of the jam factory where they killed one comrade,
Freddy, was a stone throw from where Guebuza used to live. It was him they wanted. But
their information was terribly antiquated.
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Guebuza did not go into the country himself again. They were preparing to go in and sent
Guebuza’s deputy, the commissar Leonard Tsila in order to try and build headquarters for
the rest of them when they came in. He had a plan over how to build a house and an
underground base. But then he ran out of money. He probably underestimated the cost of
this operation. At the end nothing came out of it. It was supposed to be somewhere in
Soweto.
Instead they created the so-called G5 in which they trained to live underground. Literally
underground. They learned to dig into the ground and create holes and tunnels. This was
in 1979.
Guebuza: It was not people who were living in houses that could support us, but
people who were literally living ‘underground’. In mine dumps, underground
tunnels. That is where the G5 worked, a special group of people whom I trained to
construct underground bases. In Bairro Liberdade we had an underground base
that we had dug. And I taught them how to survive when they got into the country.
It took a bit of time, but that was the idea. They were surviving. Those were the
people who attacked Maroka Police Station, which was the first one to be attacked
by people who lived in a tunnel. Then Orlando Police Station, and Boysen and
other actions in Soweto, Pretoria Power Station, Silverton and many others.
The initial group was in Liberdade for a long time. That is why they made the
underground place, so that they could see it was possible. One of them went for
reconnaissance several times because they wanted to explore the possibility of
using disused mines in Soweto. Because that would be natural dug-outs.
At that time the support of the people was not certain because of the general terror
of the regime. In 1979-1980 there was no UDF. There was very little political
activities except students and continuous protests, but it was not expressed in any
way at the level of higher organisation. Only in 1980 did the formation of the Trade
Unions become more vocal, and only later in the 80s did UDF start.
The idea was to show that their own Umkhonto we Sizwe can strike at the very
heart of the enemy. They can attack police stations and actually do it without
getting arrested. To show that people could join and be protected.
It was not to create an army from the inside that would be able to fight the enemy
but more to create shocks both towards the government and towards people to join
up.
The support from the Mozambicans went very far. But according to Guebuza, the ANC
did not take advantage of Mozambique. The ANC did not want to take advantage of
Mozambique. There was very little infiltration that they did directly from Mozambique as
a direct springboard. They went through Swaziland. The possibility of going through
Swaziland was actually quite effective. They got many people in through Swaziland, and
in Swaziland there wasn’t a language problem. The service of the machineries, the
legends had no problems. People working in SA could get to Swaziland. And there were
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many refugees that could live legally in Swaziland as refugees and provided a very good
protection for the machineries.
Gebuza’s brother, Zweli Nyanda was killed in Swaziland in 1983. Like Gebuza he lived
in Mozambique when not in Swaziland. He was a senior commander and is described as a
very bright and efficient fighter.
At the beginning Guebuza did not mix with other structures, but later on he became part
of the Military Political structure where he got involved with everything. When they set
up the Senior Organ in Maputo, Guebuza and others formed the Military Committee, J.S:
was chairman, and Guebuza was responsible for the Military that oversaw and monitored
the overall situation (incl. Natal).
When I talked to Guebuza I learned a lot about the military set up. But I also wanted
more information in relation to the fears and problems that a military commander was
faced with.
In Maputo we knew that the ANC cadres were not very disciplined. How they ought to be
under cover but appeared in the dollar shop buying whiskey. How they went to the
houses of the international cooperantes in the hope of getting a free drink. How they
would connect with each other across the accepted lines of communication. How money
would disappear from the safes of the ANC office without trace of receipts. How some
commanders in the machineries were feared by the ordinary foot soldier so that nobody
dared to protest when the commander spent the money to himself and his women. We
knew how they emptied a party and packed all the food and drinks into plastic bags
(‘doggie-bags’) before they left for home, although they were very ‘rich’ in comparison
with the Mozambican friends. We knew about their consumption of women, who were
obviously attracted to them both because of their favourite material situation and money
(the Mozambican women) and because of their wonderful heroism and just cause (the
cooperante women). I confronted Guebuza with this situation and particularly with the
more serious implications of such behaviour.
Guebuza: There were problems of indiscipline, but most of those structures were
dealt with in the camps before people arrived and were deployed. When they left
the camps they didn’t misbehave. Because unlike the SADF you relied on people’s
self imposed discipline. Even though people were young when they left, military
training is good for discipline. That is why people now are saying why don’t you
introduce national military service, because the military instils a certain level of
discipline. So you will expect most of these cases being dealt with in the camps,
but of course there are still people who misbehave.
And indeed, Guebaza gave examples of some ANC cadres who had been killed by
careless and undisciplined comrades.
Guebuza: I used to go myself to Angola to the camps and sit down and talk with
them, and generally I got a lot of assistance from the Commanders and got to
know who were the most disciplined. That’s why they could survive.
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Since my role was to go and visit those of the comrades who were sitting in deep hiding
in some house waiting for their time to go back into the country, to make sure they had
what they needed, provide cigarettes, medicine and other necessary stuff, I also knew
very well that the tension and the pressure were sometimes too much for them. I asked
Guebuza to tell me whether he had often met this problem amongst his people.
Guebuza: I feel we were very fortunate. There was only one instance. Even up till
to-day I cannot understand it. But some people explained that this guy probably
had problems. There was this guy, a very highly disciplined guy who normally lived
with the original G5 Group. Just when the Mission was about to start, he shut
himself in Bairro Liberdade, and we could not explain it. Some people posed the
theory that perhaps he was an infiltrator, and now that he had grown to love these
people, to believe even in the mission and the commanders, and now that he had
to go in and probably do whatever, he killed himself.
And now so many years later what was his best memory from his time as a commander:
Guebuza: The best memory perhaps was the attack, the first on the Moroka Police
Station, because it was the first time that an AK47 resounded in the streets of any
township in South Africa. We had been told by military headquarters that we
should only infiltrate up to the level of a submachine gun, the scorpion, but we
decided that we couldn’t stop there. We knew what we wanted to do, so we were
empowered to really take these things and really attack. I was directing it from
outside. When they were inside the commander Msiswa, Gentle Giant, took the
comrades to carry it out. It was really something. It was a first attack. We also took
them to Boysen.
But of course these things were eclipsed by Sasol (see next chapter), but we also
helped there, because it was us who infiltrated their hardware into the country.
And now so many years later, what was the worst memory from his time as a
commander:
Guebuza: My worst moment was when I realised that I had been duped by
somebody sent by the enemy right into our ranks. He was called Sippho Lapulana.
The message was sent by somebody who was a commander in the mission and
who was inside the country. It said something about not finding some hardware he
was supposed to find. And I then sent somebody, the person who was to go and
meet him physically. And as he got into the border, I got the message that he was
in the hands of the enemy. I had sent him straight into the jaws of the enemy. But
we got this information that day, that day...when he was already through the border
gate, and we had no communication, there is no cell phone. So I tried to get in
touch with people who could reach him, people that I thought he might go to,
before he goes to the appointment the following day trying to tell them, trying to
warn him. But nothing worked out. Up to the point where I decided to phone the
police and warn them about a bomb at that police station close to the rendezvous,
so that at least there could be police activity in the area. But it didn’t work. He was
arrested. He got ten years.
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Normally each unit stuck to their unit and made sure that others did not know what they
were doing. That was a strict rule. On the other hand Maputo was a small world.
Comrades were comrades, and sometimes turned to each other for help. Like the case
Guebuza has just mentioned where The Military helped the Special Ops to get some
material across.
The story about Blackman is perhaps typical for the character and the life of an ANC
military cadre.
Blackman was a legend. I never met him, but I often heard about this very special
character. His two wives were good friends of mine.
The following is from an interview with Sue Rabkin who worked for the Political
department and will be introduced later. The struggle contained the hilarious side and the
tragic side, all in one.
Sue: Mac Maharaj got the message that the whole Natal Machinery was in danger.
It was necessary to get a comrade out of the country by the name of George
Naicker.
Mac came down to Maputo. J. S. was called in, and very reluctantly offered a
comrade, Blackman. The Lion of Africa. Jane’s husband. And Beauty’s. Handsome
beyond belief. Charismatic. He was a preacher. He was actually called Njebe
because he had such a big beard. Despite his name he wasn’t particularly black.
Blackman was based in Maputo. He used to be a gangster in Alex. Then he joined
the church which is where he met Jane. He was a preacher already in Alex. He
was a crook. He was a murderer. He used to boast of it. He used to say that
everybody had two wives. They just called it something else. And they were
dishonest about it. At least he was honest. But it put him in a terrible position,
because you were not supposed to do that. He knew Beauty from Natal. He used
to move between Natal and Alex. He was married to Beauty well before he met
Jane. And Jane recruited him. They went to GDR together. When they came back
to Maputo, he wanted to get Beauty out of the country. He volunteered to go in
(and fetch George Naicker), and the reason he volunteered was that while he was
there, he would take his wife... this is how the ANC operated, as you know.
The briefing to Blackman was to find George Naicker. They didn’t know where. J.
S. was going berserk. Find out. Where does he work? What is the name of the
building? And how do you know who he is? There were so many arguments
between Bobby and Indres about this comrade that eventually the only thing they
could agree on was the size of his feet. They said he had got the smallest feet you
could ever see on an adult. And the story went that when Blackman got into his
office, into George’s office, the Boers breathing down their neck, about to pick up
this comrade and torture him to death, Blackman had to slip in, and he wasn’t
really innocuous himself.He didn’t think he had gotten the right person, because
the description was so skew from Bobby and Indres. He had to throw his pen on
the floor, to get on to the floor to see the size of his feet. And he had to crawl. And
George said: What are you doing? And he said: I am terribly sorry, comrade, I am
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just checking whether I have got the right person. George was pulled out and
Beauty followed suite, and Jane at that stage moved to another flat.
After the George Naiker story, Blackman moved between Maputo and Swaziland,
and crossed over to South Africa with a bicycle, and then bicycled in South Africa.
He was one of those brave nut cases.
Blackman was a character and a half. He was the best.
It is believed that Blackman was poisoned He had a heart attack and although he
did have a history of a weak heart, there was a post mortem done, Nkosazana
Dlamini Zuma, our present foreign Minister, who was in Swaziland at the time, did
it. There are certain medicines/chemicals that can trigger a heart attack as we now
know from Mr. Basson. Blackman died in 1980 or 81.
I wish I had met him.
Each individual has his or her individual human story
Together they got the Apartheid regime to a fall.
The general concept amongst the leaders of the ANC was that it was not possible to wage
an ordinary guerrilla war in South Africa. Instead, late 1978 Joe Slovo spoke to Oliver
Tambo about setting up a highly trained Special Operation Unit whose aim was to hit at
the main economic, infrastructural and military targets of the country. Like the military
operations mentioned by Guebuza the attacks should have a huge impact on the
population and win the heart and minds of the people. And it would show that the regime
was not inconvincible. Tambo got the acceptance of the National Executive Committee to
establish such a unit under his auspices without having to inform the NEC about the
details of the operations. OR had to go back and report to the NEC and its success.
Thereafter he might get a further mandate. It was not automatic. If an attack failed, the
Special Unit would cease to function and probably there would have been no revival of
this concept.
The Special Operation Unit was set up in that context, and Obadi, an adjutant to the
military high command (78-79) and previously mentioned in the Matola chapter was
chosen as head of it under Joe Slovo and instructed to select the cadres for the operation.
The first target was to be the SASOL Oil refineries
Oil had always been an important issuer for the regime. There was a mounting campaign
internationally to isolate the regime and oil sanctions had started. It would really strike at
the economic heart of the Regime.
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Joe had just the right man for the job:
Rachid or Aboobaker Ismael as his real name turned out to be, was a camp commander
in Angola and an instructor. He had undergone military training in the GDR and had
undergone a specialist training in military engineering, explosives, including home made
explosives given only to a small selected group. He came out first in the group. His
science studies from the University of Durban Westville helped him. While in the GDR
he had also trained in how to attack oil refineries, power stations and other strategic
targets.
After his training he was sent to Angola, to the Funda camp
In the late seventies the ANC was very heavily involved in the final push of the
Zimbabwean guerrillas as well as MPLA's confrontation with UNITA. Part of Rachid’’s
job was to train and to authorise when the comrades were ready to go to the Front. Wave
after wave, in fact thousands of comrades came through his hands.
In Funda his responsibility was to check that all the cadres were in condition, ready to
fulfil their missions at home. He didn’t know what the missions were in details, but in
general. There were not many military operations taking place inside. The most
remarkable ones were the G5 groups under Siphiwe Nyanda mentioned above with their
operations on the police stations, Morroka, Boysen, Soweto and others.
Rachid: In April-May 1979 Obadi came and had a discussion with me who at that
time was taken as the MK’s foremost expert on weapons, training, equipment,
explosives. He wanted me to train a special crack squad for this purpose. And
attacks against oil refineries were discussed without any further information. He
said that I had to prepare the cadres in attack of them by whatever means. I then
worked out a plan for the training. He discussed it with J. S., and they selected a
team of about 17 people that were sent to be trained by me. Amongst them was
Barney Molokoane who had been involved in the incursions in the Rustenberg
area where they had had this fight with the Boers. Although he was injured, he was
taken as a bit of a hero.
At the end of the training Rachid handed in his report J.S. gave them a pep talk, chose
the twelve best cadres and then said:
Rachid: ..‘and Rachid’. Pack your bags. You are going with them. Given literally
ten minutes to pack my bags, prepare myself and off. Suddenly your tension rises,
because suddenly you are confronted with the reality that you are going home.
In Luanda we were given passports, given a short briefing and told that when we
arrived in Mozambique we would all be kept in a residence and not be allowed to
leave the confines of the residence. We arrived in Mozambique the next day and
taken straight to Matola, later called the ‘terror nest’. Obadi was also moved from
Angola to Mozambique. He came there as part of the Command. They were given
a briefing and told to get prepared for a mission home to do reconnaissance.
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The cadres should study the target, see if they could get access into the plants or
to find other means. In Angola they had had extensive training on the use of
Rocket Propelled Grenades (R.P.G.s) normally used as Antitank guns. The idea
was to put teams together who consisted of three or four people, one who could hit
with an RPG, a driver, an explosive expert and one other in each unit.
Within a short time of them being briefed and prepared, they were taken off to
Swaziland and then into the country. That happened with each of them. All were
taken through to Swaziland. The first time they crossed, on their way down to
Swaziland they crossed the border, and there was no vehicle to expect them. They
had to walk. There were roadblocks at some point which the comrades didn’t know
of so they walked straight into a soldier on the Swazi side who chased them. They
weren’t armed and anyway the instructions were quite clear never to engage the
Swazis. They chased them. They ran. There was a river they couldn’t cross. They
were all picked up. Kept in prison for a week, then released, then deported back to
Mozambique.
This slowed down the mission for a couple of weeks. Afterwards they had to come
back again to Swaziland and managed to get a bus to go and buy clothes in
Manzini. None of them had civilian clothes they could use by then.
The three units managed to get inside the country. But I did not succeed with my
Indian looks in these very rural border areas! The comrades told me to approach
an Indian man who owned a business there, and asked whether he could get me
to Piet Retief but he didn’t want to help. ‘I know who you guys are. I sympathise
with you but I have a family. I can’t help. For your information there is a police
patrol passing in the next fifteen minutes, so disappear.’
No other choice than going to a taxi.
Rachid’s mission was to go to Durban to the Mobil refinery. He spent three weeks doing
reconnaissance. Attacking the target would be very simple. The issue was that if a
refractory tower explodes you get a vapour cloud which can devastate everything within
three to four km radius. When he came back to Mozambique and debriefed Obade and
J.S., they decided not to proceed with the Durban Operation. It would simply have been
too dangerous for the civil population around the refinery.
The first unit looked at the SASOL ONE, the main oil refinery in the Free State. The
second unit had to do reconnaissance at SECUNDA, Sasol Two, and the third one at the
Fluor office which was involved in the building of Secunda in the Rosebank area. Those
were the three targets chosen.
All groups indicated that they could penetrate into the target which was much better than
try to fire from the parameter of the target with RPG weapons. The other advantage of
using limpet mines was also the time delays. Because it would allow the cadres to
withdraw with the charges and get away, whereas with the RPG you would have to fire
and you would easily have to get yourself into a combat situation.
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Rachid prepared the limpet mines. He had learned in GDR to prepare the termite which is
a mixture of iron-oxide and aluminium, which will detonate, but only with a very high
temperature force, so if it comes in contact with fuel it immediately evaporates or goes to
explode. They took this into Swaziland and from there into the country. Rachid opened
the limpet mines and packed termite between the explosive and the external plate. Then
they closed the thing again and painted the limpet mines the colour of the refractory
towers. Then they packed it all in foil and sealed it, so it could be taken through the
borders by contacts. Some of the other machineries, the Natal Urban would then create
caches for the Special Unit and gave instructions back to them, which were given to the
units. From each unit they sent advance parties that would buy get-away cars.
The comrades were very determined to go through. One unit had problems when their car
capsized, but they did not want to go back because they wanted to hit on or as close as
possible to the 31st of May, Republic Day in 1980. So they decided to go ahead and find
transport inside the country.
Barney and his group went to the police station the night before with their IDs and said
they were looking for work, but didn’t want to appear to be vagrant, could they stay in
the police station, and the police gave them an open cell. The next day they were given
the IDs back and went off pretending to be looking for work, when in fact they were
walking around the plot doing the final reconnaissance and preparing the equipment. And
the next night, at a prearranged time they started their operations - Sasol and Secunda did
it a bit early because everybody was impatient to get the job done. Fluor also placed the
charges at the same time. The Secunda people were to drive back immediately to the
border where Rachid and Obadi received them. They simply loosened the border fence,
lifted it and the car just drove through.
The people of Fluor and of Sasol I because of the long distance, couldn’t go back the
same night. They were told to stay inside for a week or two until the situation calmed
down.
The Operation itself went off very well. It was the first time to use a limpet mine and had
exactly the effect that was hoped for: It was a major milestone in the armed struggle.
From small sabotage in the rural areas, suddenly they carried out a major operation
against the regime with enormous losses in the form of fuel and economy. In Maputo
word spread like wild fire that it had been planned from Maputo. Jubilation all over. But
especially in the camps in Angola.
J.S. said afterwards that he couldn’t sleep that whole night. He said he kept standing on
the balcony of his flat in Maputo to see whether he couldn’t see the explosion.
Immediately they started on the next phase and prepared for another unit to make
reconnaissance at power stations and possibly other refineries. They wanted to get
comrades in, who would stay there permanently to receive equipment. One of them was
David Mosse and two other comrades. But the Regime had found out where they crossed
and had started either recruiting or employing taxi drivers into their ranks. These three
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comrades after having crossed the border, went to a taxi at two-three in the morning, and
asked a taxi to take them to Johannesburg. The taxi driver drove them straight to the
police station and handed them over. That was the first casualty, which gave the regime
direct information. Comrade David who had been part of the Sasol operation was literally
roasted by the regime over a fire, tied up and roasted on a sped. He was put on trial
together with the others and got the death sentence because of his involvement in the
Sasol operation. Fortunately the sentence was later commuted to Life. The other two
were fairly new, did not have much information. They were given twelve years each on
Robben Island.
So soon after Sasol this first casualty.
And in January 1981 the real punishment: the Matola attack.
Rachid should have been in the residence. It so happened that there were problems
amongst the people they had already deployed inside Swaziland for the next operation.
Obadi had gone to Angola to recruit some additional cadres. While waiting for Obadi to
come back, J.S. asked Rachid to go to Swaziland to solve the problem. Obadi came back
that night when Rachid had gone. It was what saved Rachid’s life whereas Obadi lost his.
The day when Obadi died and J. S. and Rachid were staying on his balcony J. S. turned
to him and said: ‘Well, Rachid, you are now in command. You have got to face the
challenge, and you have to succeed.’ Having to do it all was an enormous challenge. For
the next few months Rachid operated on his own. They were planning major operations
one of which was the attack of Voortrekkerhoogte carried out in 1981. It was a hectic
time and it happened that he crossed the border between Swaziland and Mozambique
four times in a week, making plans and arrangements for operatives and material. When
he had disappeared the comrades in Maputo used to say ‘We must turn the radio on, and
we will hear that something has happened.’
This was quite a recognition of what he was able to achieve. And particularly in the
camps the Special Operation had an enormous respect. All of Umkhonto wanted to join
Special Unit. If they went to the camps, people would come to them and plead to be
allowed to join. ‘Please, Comrade, you give me any operation, I’ll do it. We trust you.’
By the time of Matola, the next plans were well advanced. They had become much more
established. They had proper units. Many cooperantes, international workers, had been
recruited to assist in storing weapons in Mozambique, in the transportation of weapons
from Mozambique into Swaziland and South Africa. We will later hear about people like
Hans and David, Klaas and Hélène.
The next power stations were Arnold and Camden in the Eastern Trasnvaal. Despite a lot
of difficulties the targets were hit. It created a lot of publicity. 21 months later the power
stations continued to have huge problems because of the attacks that were carried out.
They had destroyed the main step-up transformers that came off immediately from the
generators.
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And three weeks after this operation they carried out the attack on Voortrekkerhoogte
which is a huge military base outside Pretoria. Next to it is also the famous Monument of
the same name which for the Afrikaaners symbolises the Great Treck, their sufferings and
bitterness and their heroism during the Anglo-Boer war. O.R. opposed an attack on the
Momument arguing that there are certain symbols that one must not destroy. An attack
on those is seen as an attack on the people itself. But the military base yes. That would
prove that the ANC had the capacity to take on the heart of Afrikaaner military might. In
the heart of Pretoria, the Capital. That would have a great psychological impact.
I have always been admiring O.R.,s extreme humanity and respect even for his enemy’s
situation as can be seen from the above. He always took a very special interest in the
work of the unit. They had to brief him on the operation and explain in details what was
going on, but were never allowed to mention the target. Whenever they mentioned names
of places or operatives they would write it down, so they would have a discussion, then
write a few words, because O.R. was very, very conscious of the issues of security, the
issue of making sure that cadres were safe. Often he would go into an enormous amount
of details and raise questions about the escape.
For the Voortrekkerhoogte Operation a couple had been recruited from London. They
bought a small holding in the Pretoria area and started doing reconnaissance while
Rachid prepared the equipment in Maputo. The barrel of the artillery piece is 2,54 meters
long, a bulky piece very difficult to mount on the bottom of a bakkie. The loading took
place at Marc Wuyts’ place. They had done all the measurements. Only one problem:
When they wanted to load the two rockets – each barrel was 1.2 meters long—the angle
just wouldn’t come right, there was a bit sticking out of either end. For three nights they
tried to pack them making quite a bit of a noise. Rachid went to a Mozambican chap,
Carimo that used to help them in making these compartments, and had him change it, and
the next night they repeated this exercise. But again it was short by a few centimetres.
They just could not get it in. And again they were hammering and trying to cut and paste
to fit all these things in.
Rachid: On the third night, as we pulled up in the street where they lived (Rua Dar
es Salaam) I noticed some people sitting on the end of the street on either side,
but did not pay much attention to them. So we pulled up the vehicle. As we did
that, they blocked the street on either side. The equipment was on that vehicle. But
we had put false number plates, Mozambican number plates on to it, and we had a
blanket over it. Then these SNASP (the Mozambican Security Department) people
came up to me. They said to me in Portuguese: ‘What is in there?’ So I said to
them:’ Who are you? And why do you want to know?’ They said:’ Who are you?
And what is in there?’ And he produced his SNASP card. So I reached into my
pocket (laughs) and I took up my ANC card and I said to him: ‘I am a member of
the ANC.’ So he said to me: ‘What is in there? ‘ So I said: ‘Sorry, comrade, you
know that I am from the ANC and we are busy fighting a Liberation Struggle. All I
can say to you is, you don’t want to know what is in here.’ Because I was very
decided, I was not going to let him see what was the nature and the type of
equipment we were carrying, especially such huge equipment. And if there was
anybody within the Mozambican ranks that would have passed information to the
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Boers, we would be in serious troubles. Then I said: ‘I tell you what. You call your
Minister of Security’, who was still Veloso at the time, and I knew I could talk to
Veloso. ‘You, comrades, you fought your liberation. We are still fighting our
Liberation struggle. We know it is in our common interest. It poses no threat to you.
All we ask you is to close your eyes to whatever we are doing, and let us get on
with our war. And you know, your President is committed to doing that.’ Then I
talked a bit with him about Machel’s statements at Matola and things like that. So
this chap says to me:’ Ya, well, but you know, what kind of a freedom fighter are
you that you make so much noise in this suburb that we have had complaints from
the residents about something funny going on.’
Rachid had to laugh. He had been oblivious to the noices they were making. The SNASP
officer let them go and Rachid qickly decided to move their work place to somewhere
else in case his superior officers would not allow them to go free. Fortunately that night
they were able to pack everything. The next day Ed Wetli drove the vehicle across the
border where they met with the Pretoria couple to ascertain all the last details and to get
the unit in place under the command of Barney.
Rachid: On the first night the comrades went to the target, and they decided they
would carry the weapons there and walk back. But down the road there was a
police station and a police man was coming down the road, and he asked these
chaps carrying these big pipes on their shoulders, ‘Hey, wat het ye?’. So there is
one chap, Victor said ‘well, you know, we are just stealing some drain pipes, and
he gave the chap twenty Rands’. They went back to base, called for the contact
person to come to the base and drive the equipment on the back of his bakkie to
the firing point. By then they had done the assembling of the tripod and everything
else. The contact had parked about a hundred meters on. And then our chaps took
their firing positions and started firing the weapons. People nearby came out and
said: ‘Wat gaan? Wat gaan? Wat gaan?(What is going on here?) Is this a military
exercise?’ And these chaps just ignored them and carried on and fired their rocks
and so on. Then they folded it up, but when they looked around, they saw that the
vehicle had gone. The driver had gotten scared because the population in the area
had come to watch and leaned at his car. So he drove away. With the result that
these people were left stranded.
Now Victor then brakes away from Barney and decides not to go back to the
house. Barney gets back to the unit, but they leave the equipment there, and take
rifles and pistols with them, and they go back to the small holding and prepare
themselves to fight to the death. Victor disappears and sees what he can do. So
for the next three days, these chaps came back into the house. They closed the
windows, curtains, everything. They had food there. And they camp at the
windows. And they saw helicopters, police and military constantly searching, but
not coming into the house. They would search the entire area. And sometimes
they could hear people coming to the yard and knock at the door, but they wouldn’t
respond to it. They just lay still. They thought: ‘If they come into the house, we will
open fire, but otherwise...’ And the general impression was that there is no one
there.
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At the end of the three days, the search moved off, ‘well, the chaps must be at the
border or in the townships’. and, Victor, the one who had gone away,- he was
from the Pretoria area, and knows the area very well - made his way into the area,
He came up, and knocked at the door. They opened the door. ‘You chaps are all
right?’ ‘Yes, Okay’. Victor was using his own sense. He didn’t abandon his
comrades. So he said: ‘Tonight, I am coming for you chaps. Prepare yourselves.’
So Victor came back with the chap who had driven away. The same vehicle,
collected them, and took them off to the township.
So in this unit, amazing, everybody survived.
The unit came back I cannot say to you what euphoria, because now we are
talking about the space of weeks after the major operation had taken place. And
South Africa, in the townships, people were celebrating. To them, liberation was at
hand. MK was hitting, and was hitting the Boers right where it hurt and
embarrassed them. Of course the Boers tried to make it ‘Ach, man this has no
effect’. From our side we knew. Yes, if we had hit a barrack full of soldiers, it would
have been even better, but from our perspective it was a successful operation,
because we were able to get into the heart of the country and we were able to hit
at the heart of the military machine.
So black South Africa celebrated. And the camps! The talk was: ‘Pack your bags,
comrades we are going home’. Right. This was Special Operation!
Sue Rabkin arrived in Maputo Airport in January 1978. An ANC comrade, June, was
waiting for her. Was it possible for anybody to be so white, so grey? He didn’t ask the
question but drove her to "Internal", a house Frenne Ginwala had given to the ANC. She
did not arrive with a husband. But her two children aged 6 and 3 were curiously looking
at this new place, sweating in their cardigans.
Indres and Saeeda Naidoo were waiting for them. And so was Bram, their 4 year old son.
They were going to live together. The children had their own room, but it didn’t take
Franny one night before she decided that Indres’ and Saeeda’s bed was cosier and moved
into their bedroom. Joby was too big for such habits. He had already been going to school
in London and was excited to see what school he was going to attend in Maputo.
Indres had arrived recently. After 10 years on Robben Island he had been giving talks for
University students. One of them was Saeeda. A beautiful love story let to marriage in
1975 and the birth of a son. But things got too hot, and he had to leave the country.
Saeeda tried to follow him and eventually managed to join him in London. Later she got
a job as a teacher at the International School of Maputo, and created a good ‘legend’ for
Indres’ deployment there.
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Saeeda earned a bit of money, which was a good supplement for the now extended family
if one of the trucks with the ANC deliveries should have omitted anything. One day was
the veg van, then the van with meat from Swaziland, then the van with soap, toilet papers,
dentifrices. The sardines and olive oil came from the Soviet Union and so did the army
biscuits and the oats which was a surplus from the war supplies. The egg powder from
the Dutch and the milk powder from the Danes. They were taken well care of, the ANC
comrades. And it was necessary, because Maputo was now as empty as a football field
without players. No, that is not true, if you went to the market you could get watercress,
and if you went to the Loja do Povo you could get Nido-milk. Shelves and shelves with
one single product... until the rationing system was introduced a few years later and you
could get a little bit more than nothing... and at least you all got the same amount. The
leadership of Frelimo had a special shop. And everybody envied them, some were of the
opinion that it was against the spirit of Frelimo’s democracy, others argued that the
leaders had to entertain more than others. The truth of the matter is that there were not a
lot of things available from that shop either, which the following story illustrates:
Pamela dos Santos did not associate herself a lot with the ANC, and insisted basically to
deal with Indres whom she knew from home. So it became the duty of the Internal House
to keep this relationship going, and now and again they were sent by Zuma to obtain
certain favours. Once Sue was there she saw Pamela’s cat eating something black in its
plate. She looked closer and found that the cat was eating caviar. She screamed: What is
this cat eating? And Pamela explained that they got tons and tons of caviar from the
Soviet Union, and nobody in the leadership liked it very much. So what else than to give
it to the cat? Sue looked at her and asked: Pam, what do you need? Well, I cannot cook
without potatoes and onions. Fine, we will provide you with potatoes and onion. For each
kilo we give you, you give us a kilo of caviar. And so it was. Internal House boomed with
caviar, enough to take as presents everywhere, and Pamela was able to cook her favourite
meals!
Indres and Sue were to work together. And with them, Bobby, who lived with his Dutch
partner in Xipamanine and their child. Bobby was also a Robben Islander. He was also
new in Maputo. The three of them constituted the Political Department in Maputo. And
Bobby literally lived at the Internal most of the time.
Sue Rabkin was a strange phenomenon. She was white. She was a woman. She was for
all intent and purposes a single mother. She wanted to be treated as any other comrade...
and she wanted to keep a key position through the work she did.
Originally British she had fallen in love with a South African young man in her school in
London, David Rabkin at the age of 14. When he some years later came to propose to
her... at least that is what she expected… he told her that he intended to go back to South
Africa and do underground work, would she join him? Although Sue considered herself a
leftist she was completely ignorant of South Africa. She went to demonstrate against the
Soviet Invasion of Czechoslovakia in 68, only to learn that the South African Communist
Party which she was now linking up with did not tolerate this.
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She was introduced to ‘Frank’ alias Ronnie Kasrils, who was to coach her since their
young cadre who they expected so much from, had been so apolitical as to fall in love
with what seemed from a political point of view an utterly useless young girl.
They married in 1972 and left on a boat to Cape Town, where for four years they set up a
clandestine unit, consisting of the two of them plus Jeremy Cronin. She hated those years
because they lived in a complete isolation not allowed to have very much social life, and
certainly not to link up with any political entity. Hatred is not enough to feed you, she
explains. And if you only mix with people you despise, you end up despising yourself.
She committed a sin against the South African Communist Party nearly as serious as the
demonstration against the Soviet Union, when she became pregnant and gave birth to
Joby, although she could expect at any time to end up in prison.
It took four years before they were discovered. In a widely publicized court case ‘The
Rabkin-Cronin case’ in 1976, David was given 10 years, Jeremy Cronin got 8 years. Sue
was pregnant at the time of the trial, and gave birth to a little daughter in Pallsmor Prison
in 1976. (Imagine for Franny to be able to write that on her CV later in life).
Sue then went to London with the two children, and started working with Mac Maharaj
who had just arrived in London after his time on Robben Island. Mac had smuggled
Nelson Mandela’s autobiography out of the Island in a photo album, and day after day
Mac would read the minute letters to Sue who would type them out. Then he started
working on the Structure of the Underground still with Sue as his secretary. When he was
sent to Lusaka as Head of the Political Reconstruction team, Sue too wanted to go to the
forward areas, and after a lot of persuasion she was eventually allowed by the leadership
to go to Maputo with her two children.
At the beginning the political work was not considered very important. Sue even
discovered that the military who was supposed to take political pamphlets with them into
the country dumped it all in Namaacha in an ANC house and left it there where it
eventually filled a whole room. But from the time that Sue's old mentor, Ronnie Kasril
moved to Maputo and Swaziland bringing with him a group of young militants from the
camps, most of them of the Soweto generation , and was appointed to head the political
unit together with Zuma, the serious internal political work could start. These two
became Sue's immediate bosses and Internal House became the Centre of the Political
Machinery.
There were now so many people in Internal that the original inhabitants moved out. Sue
and her children to a flat on Av. Julius Nyerere, which Pamela dos Santos helped finding
for them. Very close to the International School and the children could still walk to it
unaccompanied every day and handily next to a police station.
Farouk from the Intelligence work moved in to help with the children and the daily
chores and not far from her was the house of the Belgian couple Oscar and Bernadette,
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who worked very closely with the ANC and became a good support for Sue and her
children when things began to heat up.
Indres, Saeeda and Bram moved to a semi-detached house in Rua Dar es Salaam,
twinning Marc Wuyts’ house from the Centre of African Studies. This house became the
Centre of Deliveries, and a garden shed was built to cater for all the goods. It had a
printing machine, and like so many other ANC houses was stuffed with weapons. And
after the arrival of Saeeda’s mother, Alma (who will be introduced in a later chapter), it
also became the favourite Sunday-lunch place for a part of the ANC community.
The number of ANC comrades arriving in Maputo, either channelled through the higher
structures or directly from home was growing by the day. Sue and the trained comrades
would make interviews with the newcomers, and got very good at discovering who were
genuine and who were not and to decide how best to use them. The constant danger of
either criminal elements or of informants was there constantly, and as the work grew
internally, the greater the danger.
Sue inherited one such case. A comrade called ‘Special’ was found to be an informer, and
everybody that had come out of the country through him was under careful surveillance
and analysis. One of them was Gab. When Sue arrived he had been under observation for
nearly a year. Nothing could be found to indicate that he was in any way working for the
enemy. But the stigmas persist. And he was not taken to live with the other comrades in
Internal.
That is how he came to live with Sue, and a very close relationship developed between
them, both work wise and at the personal level. He was a quiet comrade, some even
thought a bit odd. He rarely went out, although he sometimes liked to have a chat with
Sertorio, since his father being the principal of the Secondary School near Tzaneen where
Sertorio had been a student.
Mac Maharaj was the overall chief of the political machinery in Botswana, Lesotho,
Maputo, Swaziland, London and later Harare, so Sue reported to Ronnie and Zuma.who
then reported to Mac. When Ronnie began to spend a lot of time in Swaziland, Sue and
Zuma started to work very closely together.
The reporting was an extremely important issue. When Ronnie and Zuma took over the
leadership of the Political Department in Maputo and Swaziland they wanted to know
what machineries existed inside the country and demanded that it be written out for them,
the people, their stories, the links etc. When they started doing this, they found out how
valuable it was to have in writing what they knew and thereby discover what they just
vaguely assumed but did not know for sure. This process of reports was developed in
details and day after day Sue would sit together with Zuma and discuss the report that
came from inside, decode the names and analyse what was in them, what was the
situation and what the advice or orders they would send back. A lot of resources and time
went into collecting reports. There were not that many couriers, and they had to be
trained, find Dead Letter Boxes (DLBs), and bring the reports out. But it became an
invaluable tool, which was all kept in Maputo and eventually sent to Lusaka. Sue’s big
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fear now is that after 1994 what happened with the material? Is it in the Fort Hare
Archives or is it being kept somewhere else? Rachid expressed the same worry over all
the material and reports that he knows reached South Africa but that he does not know
where is now.
This reporting also became a democratic tool. The cadres inside were able to send their
opinion and suggestions all the way to head office, and in most cases the issues were
discussed and an answer given. But the road was long and sinuous. Answers took for ever
to reach back. It was an attempt of giving influence to all the layers of the movement in
circumstances that did not really offer the possibilities of proper democracy.
One of the people who was most conscientious about the need for reporting was E.B.
(real name!) E.B. worked in the Natal machinery inside the country when Mac got the
information that the whole machinery was in big danger and insisted on pulling him out.
Much to E.B.’s furor.
Sue: When George Naiker was pulled out, we had to get E.B. out. He was next in
line. And he was tricked into Swaziland, and the comrades bundled him in the car
to Mozambique and he was told: You stay here. He stayed in Bobbie’s flat in
Maputo. He was beside himself. What are you doing? People are going to get
suspicious, and I have got to get back to Natal. Ronnie and Zuma were called to
some big meeting in Lusaka, and they said (to Sue): Right, you are in charge. We
are not here. And every day I went checking on his flat. And every day he
harangued me for hours. What are you doing? I am going to complain. He got so
obsessed.
When he was not allowed back, E.B. insisted on being based in Swaziland and had a very
important role in connecting with the internal people, always busy with DLBs, food
arrangements, contacts, but first of all he was exemplary in collecting and writing reports.
It was because of his endeavour to a large extent that people outside knew everything
about the trade unions, the UDF and other events inside the country.
At some stage Sue got a tip from Alpheus about an old Shangaan (Tsonga) man who was
making business travelling between Kathlehong and Maputo in his little blue backie and
who lived in Bairro de Triumfo when he was in Mozambique. He was interested but also
a bit wary about the ANC. After some talks with him, Sue found out that he had contacts
with a young guy, also Shangaan, in the very important union of the steel workers,
UMAWOSA. She asked him to get the young man, ‘Grace’ to Maputo, and was very
impressed with his work and his dedication for the ANC. Each time he came out, there
would be work for three months with all the information and all the links he had made.
Gab was involved and they got closer and closer to him, until the time it was decided that
Gab should go back inside the country, and together with Grace he should set up
underground structures.
Gab stayed for nearly a year, and by the time he came back out they had set up structures
in Alexandra Township, in Thembisa, in Kathlehong, in Soweto, among the youth and of
course inside the Union itself.
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Like any other comrade who had been filtered back inside, Gab had to be serviced from
the rear. And money had to be sent in. Thousands of Rands was sent in. For housing, for
transport, for food, for gifts and bribery. Money was a chapter on its own in the ANC. It
seemed to come and go without any control. In Lusaka the Treasurer General would get it
from different sources, a lot from the Soviet Union, some from other governments. It
usually came in cash, because a bank account could be followed. Sometimes in trunks.
Sometimes via London. Then via Lusaka it would come through to Maputo. The ANC
had an agreement with the Mozambican government to let it pass. Then the ANC office
would hand over to the different machineries. Then couriers would take it with them to
Swaziland or inside the country. In cars or on their bodies. Thousands of rands were
shifting hands like that. In some cases the comrades were honest and the money landed
up where it should ...
Sue: There were times when the Swazis shut the border. There were times that I
was the only person who could go down, and I was sent down repeatedly. One
time I went down with Joby. I was so strapped up with money. So much money in
my shoes and strapped round my body—that was for the Sasol operation—and
reference books, and detonators in my pocket. It was urgent. Crisis. Couldn’t get
anybody to go down. I had a British passport. Joby saw the car being packed,
because I always thought it was better the children saw so that they didn’t make a
blue than not to see. They shut the windows. You know the procedure. They knew
why. The Mozambicans waved us through. We got to Swaziland. Quiet and sleepy.
As I was walking passed the custom officer said: You can’t take that basket into
Swaziland because of foot and mouth disease. But it is for shopping. You can’t
take it. I said, OK I will leave it here and collect it on my way back. He said, You
can’t leave it here. You must take it back to the Mozambican side. I could feel the
sweat running down the notes, but I couldn’t get them suspicious. Joe shouted:
Are you all right, Sue. And I shouted back: I am fine. Just sit there. Don’t touch
anything. I will be right back. I walked back what seemed fifty miles. It was only up
there. Waiting for this stuff to fall. I got back into the car. At one point there is a grid
for cattle at the Swazi side. Only when we got over this grid, and he knew were
were in Swaziland, Joby said: Sue, can you stop the car, I am going to be sick.
This little boy vomited his lungs out. Shear nerves. Shear nerves.
Seven years had passed since the Rabkin-Cronin case, and at the beginning of 1984
David Rabkin was free. He left directly for London, and Sue, Franny and Joby went there
to meet with their husband and father. What wonderful and blissful reunion ... For the
children and the father at least. For the husband and wife... less so. They had to find a
new relationship. Dave’s place had been taken by Gab, but their friendship and common
commitment should not be demolished. Sue and the children didn’t stay long. David tried
to get into the London life where his parents were happy to have him back. But after a
couple of months decided to go to Maputo to continue his work for the Movement and
unite with his children. He got a flat, he started working as a journalist for the English
Section of the Mozambican AIM and for the Radio Mozambique. He joined the ANC
group who wrote the monthly reports to Oliver Tambo mentioned earlier and he did a lot
of underground work by taking clandestine material, including weapon into Swaziland,
often together with Rob Davies. For the 8 months he lived in Maputo he seemed to be
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fitting in, finding his place, and he soon struck a very close and passionate relationship
with the Italian teacher Mariella, the above mentioned artist of the Abdul Ibrahim poster.
So close was their relationship that it was decided that after going for military training in
Angola—a short crash course so that he could handle weapons correctly – the two of
them would go to Lusaka together with Franny and Joby. The plan was that he would
look after the children while Sue would go inside and strengthen the above mentioned
structures, which Gab and Grace had set up.
But things did not turn out the way they were planned. David was killed in Angola
towards the end of his stay. In a survivor exercise he pulled the pin of an explosive
device, but the delaying mechanism did not function and it exploded in his hands. He was
rushed to hospital but died before reaching there. Later, when she was at a leadership
course in the Soviet Union, Sue was told that an investigation had been set up, and the
findings were that a whole batch of explosives had been tampered with, so that not only
David but a number of about 6 to 8 comrades inside the country had been killed in the
same way. A camp was given his name, but up till now his grave has not been identified.
The work has been difficult because of the war in Angola and because of the fact that
people have been buried on top of each other in the cemetery. Franny will still have to
wait before she can show the grave to a possible grandchild of David’s as she told us in
the Introduction. And so will a lot of other ANC comrades who have lost their dear ones.
We were lucky. For a long period of time, John Nkadimeng of SACTU stayed with us in
Maputo. I was away during a period, and him and Alpheus made the perfect match in
how to deal with the house. His daughter’s wedding was celebrated in our house. Where
else? Was that not the home I could provide for her? as he says years after with a happy
smile.
He was so proud of Naomi. When he first came to Maputo he hadn’t seen her for many
years. She was in the camps and then with cultural group Amandla. He managed to arrive
in Maputo with his wife for one of their performances in 1977.
Nkadimeng: By the time when my daughter was in the Choir, Amandla Group,
when they came to sing in Mozambique, I was in Swaziland, and I was supposed
to come to the performance. I didn’t see her at any other place than that time.
When we were to get out, the police didn’t want us to go, they didn’t want me to
come out of Swaziland with my wife, until Oliver Tambo had to ring the King and
tell him to let me go... from Swaziland to Maputo to see my daughter.
Now we are there. When they were singing... I am sitting there with my wife...I
want to see her. I can’t see her. Where is Noami? I don’t see her. (laughs) And
there she is, but there are all these singers. I don’t know her. Until when they
started singing, I said: Yes, man, I can see her now. Her mother was so furious
with me. (laughs). You can’t see your child in front of you, like this.
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She went out (of South Africa). They left after me. They passed into Swaziland. My
children. All of them, I think it was four. If not five. It was the elder brother, Naomi,
Isia, her younger brother who died in Botswana, and well the other younger ones
who came later with their mother, Shelly and Gloria. Because they all came out
now. Including my youngest son, who is still in Cuba today. My wife had just came
out a couple of months earlier when the Amandla group came to Mozambique.
She had just come out with the smaller children.
This is Nkadimeng. Joking. Human. Laughing at himself. Happy and proud of his family.
John Nkadimeng is a trade unionist right to the marrow. In his book: A Lion amongst the
Cattle, Peter Delius tells about ‘Reconstruction and Resistance in the Northern
Transvaal.’ John Nkadimeng plays an important role in the struggle of Sekhukhuneland.
Here the Trade Unions, The Communist Party and the ANC had to find their feet in a
rural setting, and had to understand the importance of migrant workers in the political
cross-fertilisation which contributed to the revolt in 1958 and the formation of Umkhonto
We Sizwe in 1961. He became part of the growing interaction of township and rural
youth from the 1970s, and up till to-day when the ANC needs support for their ideas in
that area, they use Cde John Nkadimeng to mitigate and reconcile because of the respect
he earns amongst the Pedi people there.
He spent several periods in jail and under banning orders. After a serious warning that he
was next in the row of people who would simply disappear, Nkadimeng decided to leave
the country, and in 1976 got a lift with a construction worker who was taking his
religious community to Swaziland and knew how to get through without a passport.
Upon arrival in Swaziland he telephoned the acting chief representative in Mbabane, Stan
Mabizela, and was welcomed by him, his wife Tixie, the three children and Tixie’s sister.
He lived with them until he became the chairperson of the Senior Organ in the Region.
He was first its vice-chairman under Moses Mabhida. This was the time he started going
to Maputo because the Senior Organ comprised Swaziland and Mocambique where he
worked closely with Jacob Zuma and Joe Slovo.
During the year 1977 he often travelled between the two countries and soon discovered
that there were problems with the Swazi border police. Once when he was travelling to
the Soviet Union for a meeting one of the policemen stopped him and said ‘Greet them in
Moscow’. Nkadimeng could only understand that they must be informed by Pretoria.
How else would the police know? When he came back he asked them directly whether
they were working for the South African Regime and the policeman got furious. The
problems with the Swazis had always existed, but they became more acute after King
Sobuza died. He and Oliver Tambo were great friends, and he and Mabhida were great
friends. But within Swaziland you could never be sure as the example of his daughter's
performance in Maputo shows.
Another example affected Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma directly. They were living in
Swaziland at the time when
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Nkadimeng: One of the chaps who was working for the underground was found
with a suitcase full of weapons by the Swazi police. They said to him: Open out.
Let us see what is in there. He says: Open it yourself. Then the Swazis took him,
threw him into the van and took him to the police station. They report the matter
to the King. The Kings says "Take those people, put them into
Mozambique…with their suitcases. Don't give them to the Boers." Thabo Mbeki
and Jacob Zuma were removed from Swaziland no longer to work there. Some of
Sobuza's own police… and his own politicians did not know abvout our
relationship. Some knew. But they wouldn't do anything because he was the
King. The King is the Law.
In 1978 Cde Nkadimeng came to stay permanently in Maputo. That is when he settled in
our house and stayed there for the bigger part of his Mozambique time. He was a man of
many hats, the SACTU hat, the Senior Organ hat, the SACP hat and the ANC hat.
What did SACTU do? Where does it come from, and where did it go?
In March 1955 14 Unions representing African, Coloured, Indian and White workers
established the South African Congress of Trade Unions (SACTU) to genuinely represent
all workers and to fight the main enemy of worker's unity - the colour bar.
In practice, SACTU has never had the status of a legal organization. Its leadership has
always been hounded by the police, banned and arrested. In 1956, twenty-two months
after its formation, almost all its active cadres and leaders, were arrested and charged
with High treason. And in 1960, during the state of Emergency, no less than 200 SACTU
activists were jailed without trial. The national President Steve Dhlamini had been jailed
and later left the country. Some were even executed like the people’s patriot Vuyisile
Mini. It had been necessary to suspend the holding of National Conferences and office
activities, and although SACTU still continued to exist in the individual unions and at
factory level, the weight of its importance now had to be taken to exile where like
Nkadimeng most of its leaders had to seek refuge.
SACTU was quite weak in the 60s. Ray Alexander wrote a report saying ‘What do we do
about the Trade Union Movement?’ which was discussed thoroughly at the CC meeting
in Moscow in 1978. It seemed that not only was it weak inside the country but also in
exile.
John Nkadimeng has this explanation:
Firstly, one of the most important reasons for SACTU to be an effective trade union
movement is that from the very inception, when some of us were young, when we
had been trained for Trade Union Organisation, it was influenced by the
progressive movement especially the SACP whose leaders had always been
saying that the CP is an important leader of the working class. It works through the
Trade Unions and it influences the thinking of the workers and directs them in the
correct channels to their own liberation. So much so that the worker of the CP is to
shape the mission of the Trade Unions on progressive lines to always find them
among the workers. To conscientise them. So that they realise that it is their labour
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that produces everything that we live on, that we drink and eat. They don’t make
water, but they make the means of bringing water, the means of making water
available into the house through the labour of the workers. They are not just
people to work until they die without creating a future for themselves and their
children.
Then Cde Nkadimeng becomes more specific:
SACTU was not banned with the others. In fact, SACTU was never banned. What
was happening was that we, individually were banned, because they realised that
if they banned the trade unions per se, they were going to have a very hard time,
because now they are going to get the working class to stand up and say: nothing
doing. They didn’t dare to ban the Trade Unions as such, they banned influential
people in the Unions.
Many of the influential people had to leave some to join Umkhonto, others were in
prison, so there was a time when it was very weak.
That is why it was necessary for those of us who were outside to form an Alliance
with the ANC, and we made it stronger when we came there, and we started
focusing towards home.
The first president of SACTU in exile was Steve Dlamini
And Moses Mabhida was his vice. The secretary then was John Katsewe. He left
London and went to Francistown. To Botswana. He had a house in Francistown. I
became the General Secretary and, Thosamile Botha, who had just come out,
became my assistant.
It was easy to be organised abroad. The difficulty was to keep the link to the Trade
Unions at home. To try and direct where they should go. The fact that Nkadimeng was so
close to home, was in the region made this possible. Alpheus remembers many a time
when he left the house to Nkadimeng in the morning, knowing that during the day a
meeting would take place between SACTU abroad and some of the Trade Union leaders
from home. These meetings, if any, had to be extra secret for the mere fact that the
comrades from home were going back home. And now years after it happens to him that
people meet him saying that they know him. He looks a bit baffled, and they add: No, we
never met you, but we knew that our meeting was in your house, and we actually saw you
going out of it so as to give us the possibility of meeting with Cde Nkadimeng.
Nkadimeng: We started influencing the Trade Unions at home on what they
should do from where we were. And we would ask certain people from certain
unions to come and see us.
There was no COSATU at that time. There were different unions, no central body.
One of the backbones of SACTU at that time was the Mineworkers Union. Food
and Allied Workers Union. The Textile Workers’ Union, the Railway Workers’
Union and the Postal Workers’ Union. Those were the Unions that were strong
inside the Workers Union. From inside. And new ones were formed. And we used
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to meet them. And then we succeeded to at large extent to link them with their
counterparts in any part of the world, including London, especially in London. That
is why the headquarters of SACTU began in London.
Then it moved to Maputo. In 1982.
And some people got employed full time. Some of them used to be paid. But the
main thing was that it was influenced from London. It is that experience that
eventually influenced the Communist Party to hold the Central Committee Meeting
near the borders, in Maputo for the first time when I was the chairman of the
Senior Organ in Mozambique.
The Central Committee which was based in London and Lusaka had to agree to
come to Maputo for the first time.
It was a very, very important meeting.
It opened up. That is why they formed the United Democratic Front. When they
made the UDF, 700 organisations were joined under one umbrella. There has
never been an organisation in Africa, if not in the world, which was able to organise
people like that. 700 organisations under one umbrella, the UDF.
Perhaps one of the biggest achievements of the Movement.
Nkadimeng: The Trade Unions that were now linked to the Liberation Movements
started to discuss forming a Trade Union of the SACTU type inside the country.
We went together with them and in fact when for the first in the history of our
revolution, COSATU was formed we wrote to them to welcome them. So the
Executive of COSATU visited us. Bahai, the former president of COSATU, and Jay
Naidoo with two other people came there, and they were received by us. They
went to State House in Lusaka. I led that delegation.
We were giving them our blessing, and we told them that they have done the right
thing, and that we are not going to compete. Because you see some fellows, when
they were arguing about the names, when a group which were SACTU militants
decided, we can’t afford to change the name, and outright Dlamini was saying the
same. And one fellow just said: ‘Instead of starting with ‘S’, turn the letters round,
start with ‘C’. It is the same thing, except for one letter only. It is the same thing’.
But not everybody was of the same opinion. Names are symbols and mean a lot.
Nkadimeng: Steve Dlamini, our president, did not agree with us. He says: ‘Well, I
am beaten by the majority, but as far as I am concerned, they have no business to
change the name of SACTU.’ But we said:’ Look here man, what is it in the name?
It is just the same letters turned around.’ We said that those people must feel that it
is theirs. When you formed SACTU, they were not there. Now if they formed it
themselves and we are working together, what is the point?
Apart from giving moral support to COSATU SACTU collected money which was sent
to the Unions inside. It was sent on to COSATU and to specific unions in SA. Some
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Trade Unions in London were linked to the progressive ones in SA and collected money
for those unions.
This was the main aim of SACTU.
But they also worked together with the Mozambican Trade Unions.
The Mozambican Trade Union, the OTM, was very weak. Or rather it was conceived in
a different way. Whereas SACTU was formed to combat the (South African) State and
employers, and got it strength from this tradition, the TCU in Mozambique was—like in
all socialist countries—formed by the State, the Workers’ State. There was a small pocket
of Trade Unions who had fought the Portuguese. In particular the Port and Railways
Workers. But basically, although Mozambique at the time of independence was the 8th
most industrialist state in Africa, the workers were not organised, and only began
organising themselves once Frelimo came into power. It must have been interesting for
SACTU to see in real experience how their host organised the workers on line with what
their beloved and admired Soviet Union did.
There certainly was a link between SACTU and the Mozambican leadership, and we all
remember the 1st of May parades where the ANC nearly stole the picture in Maputo,
singing, gumbooting, dancing and toy-toying through the streets. We all put on our white
SACTU shirt and lead the commemoration and the fun. We felt like kings and queens.
We were certainly allowed by the Mozambicans to play a key role. They were in clear
and constant solidarity with us and with the South African workers. Viva.
In the Matola Raid in January 1981, the SACTU House in Matola was one of the three
that was raided. We don’t know exactly what information they had about the three houses
(see chapter ), but there is no doubt in Cde Nkadimeng’s mind, that the South Africans
were deadly scared of the workers and of SACTU. They did not need a lot of rhetoric to
understand what a power the South African workers had when organised.
Because of their number and because of their common goal, the SACTU comrades
worked closely together with the Political machineries. One example was the story Sue
told us about Grace and Gab building up the resistance in the trade unions. But there are
many examples of this cooperation.
While he stayed in our house, Alpheus and him entertained the discussions you never
failed to have when you were amongst comrades. In one of them they put a question
mark to the fact that all Communist and Trade Union meetings which would gather the
ANC-SACTU and SACP leadership seemed to take place in the Soviet Union or in the
Eastern countries. Why not closer to home? Both because of the costs, but also to
ascertain that it was in Southern Africa they belonged. On top of it, all the important
leaders were here in Maputo: Joe Slovo, Chris Hani—particularly after the attack on
Lesotho in 1982 where his wife Dimpho moved to Maputo.- Joe Modise was here. Jacob
Zuma was here, and the rest in Lusaka. Why go to Moscow? And as an important step
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forward in that direction SACTU started its first office with an executive staff here in
Maputo.
Eventually, at the beginning of 1982, Cde John Nkadimeng moved out of our house now
to stay at Av. Julius Nyerere together with Ronnie Kasrils when he was in Maputo.
Nkadimeng stayed on in Maputo until the Nkomati Accord.
We didn’t know exactly who was working with Intelligence and Security. There was
Farouk who worked in something they called the ‘Green House’ in Matola. This nice and
humorous fellow who stayed at Sue’s place at the beginning, and who would spend all
the Sundays just behind Club Naval with his fishing rod trying to catch real fish in the
Ocean, probably as the distraction from the other fish he chased during the week. He was
talkative and a good friend, but never said a word about his work. And there was Socks
who in the free South Africa became Head of South Africa's National Intelligence
Agency, NIA. He mostly worked from Swaziland but although he often came to Maputo,
I didn’t know him myself.
The person we all knew was Willie Williams. And we all knew that he was head of
Security. He was the one we had to report to if we had any knowledge or fear about
something going on, and it was from him the order of sleeping away from home came.
He always impressed me as a very firm and dedicated man…. but to be quite honest I was
also a little scared of him… maybe this was due to the work he was performing.
The painful thing is that Willie, head of something as sensitive as Security, had
difficulties getting accepted by the Movement. I only get to understand this now when
talking to him so many years later. He says with a smile that they always considered him
a ‘lumpen’. And a ‘lumpen’ he was. Not to say a big criminal before he joined the ranks
of the ANC. He tells with a laughter how, from the first day of work for a dry-cleaner in
Johannesburg, he stole the money he was supposed to have handed in to his employers.
How he let prisoners out of the car whom he was supposed to take from one prison to the
other, how he learned to steal cars, and eventually also how he kidnapped people who
had just collected money from the bank in big quantities to pay the workers. Always
smart enough to leave his job for another in time before he was caught.
He ends his account on his criminal past by saying:
Williams: We did about four or five of these jobs (kidnapping). And then I said: this
is enough.
And without any transition period, he joined Umkhonto. His recruiter, Mtwaleli, wanted
to take him through the whole political explanation of why the ANC was fighting, but
Williams simply asked the recruiter to jump all that stuff and get on to how to produce
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petrol bombs and stage minor attacks until he could leave the country so that he could get
proper military training. Their first mission inside was to steal dynamite from a mine
dump guarded by the police. They were very successful. He also managed to help
improving the quality of the Molotov cocktails. But he refused to use them against police
stations arguing that these were their own people and suggested that they proceed to the
white areas.
He left the country and worked his way to Tanzania in much the same way as Lennox did
and around the same time. He became a fighter that could withstand more than most. He
had been used to hardship from early in life.
Williams: In Dar the ANC asked who was leading the group that had arrived.
Although there were five guys older than me, they said it was me. They looked at
us and said: ‘Lumpen. This group must be sent home. The people from
Johannesburg don’t know how to recruit. Just look what they have brought us.
Lumpen. Lots of tsotsis from Joburg.’
Like Lennox he has lots of stories to tell from the camps in Tanzania. He went to Algeria
for training with the first group and is proud to tell that he was trained in the same place
as Ben Bella. Then he went for further training in the Soviet Union where he completed a
ten months course in Intelligence work. With him was Peter Boroke.
He felt ready to be sent back home and fight, but was told to wait because the leadership
inside the country had been arrested. He spent several years in Livingstone where he set
up a number of financial activities as a backing to the Wankie operation. As we know (p.
) this mission failed. He was sent back to the Soviet Union, where this time he stayed for
6 years and trained as an agriculturist. Before he had ended the whole course the ANC
called him back to Lusaka where they wanted him to take over the Chongela Farm which
they had recently acquired near Lusaka.
He refused to stay in Lusaka, made his own contacts with Peter Boroke in Mozambique
who was having difficulties in coping with the increasing security work there because of
an influx of agents via Swaziland and Lesotho, and through Cassius Make he managed to
get a ticket to Maputo. The leadership in Lusaka only knew about it when they heard
from somebody that he had met Williams in Maputo. They called him back, but he
refused and stayed on in Maputo working for Peter.
In his own words:
Williams: Peter said: ‘Doc wants to see you. You came without their permission.
Here is the ticket for you to go back to Lusaka. The directorate has said so.’ ‘Who
are they? I don’t know them. Go and tell them they can go to hell.’
This was 1978. The time when the ANC structures were reorganised, also the Department
of Intelligence and Security. And Williams found his place.
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Peter Boroke was overwhelmed with work because he was dealing both with the practical
security work and with the RPC of which he was a member and with the constant
meetings where he flew to Lusaka or went to Swaziland. He simply couldn’t handle it all,
and they soon decided on a division of work: Peter would take care of all the official
work, the meetings and the travelling, and Willie would stay behind and do the actual day
to day work in the office together with a group of young comrades.
With the growing ANC population, there was a lot of work to be done. And did they
work! It was some years now since Williams had been trained, but he could feel his
learning coming back. He soon discovered that there was a lot of mistakes and
groundwork that had not been done and he went through it all bit by bit, compiling a
dossier, a huge dossier. The first person to read it was Cde Mabhida in Swaziland. Then
Mabhida showed it to J. S. in Maputo and then took it to O.R. in Lusaka. The leadership
was impressed. Very impressed. And only now did they decide not to harass him more
and let him stay in Maputo. From now on the leadership respected his work.
A positive thing that came out of this respect was that the leadership decided to allocate
some money to their department. Security had people working for them inside the
country, but they were unable to finance them, even unable to pay their transport from
Johannesburg to Swaziland when they brought information. The Department didn’t have
any transport, only one car, a Ford, which they had to do with until they got a Peugeot
404 and one that gave them a lot of problems. After Williams had handed in the dossier
they were given 3000 R pr. month.
He and Peter built up a network inside the country whose most important contact was a
person working in Pretoria within the Security Department. This mole was in direct
contact with somebody in Nelspruit who could immediately get across the border to
Swaziland-Maputo and therefore was a perfect link The network had been dormant
because there was no money, but now the work could start. One of the first warnings
from their Pretoria contact was that there would be an attack on the ANC residences in
1979.
Williams: We got information that ANC residences would be attacked. We told the
Mozambicans, that there would be an attack, and that it would only take five
minutes to go from the border to where they were going and then back again.
Could they please strengthen their artillery. But they used to not take us seriously.
Some of them did not trust us.
Another event in 1979 turned out to be the explanation as to why the Mozambican
Security SNASP did not ‘trust’ them.
They got information, a list of names. Again from their Pretoria contact. There was a
name which they couldn’t understand. There was the name ‘Jorge’ and the name ‘da
Costa’? They couldn’t find out whether it was the same person. The information would
say: There is someone on the list who is not reliable, who is working with the enemy.
Williams was informed that the list of 45 names was of people who frequently visit South
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Africa for businesses. When Williams asked the Mozambicans, they said they didn’t
know. A part from this Jorge and this da Costa there were three other suspicious names.
Williams: We had said to Mabhida, we are very serious about this information.
Why don’t you give this to them. He said: I have already given this to Matsinha.
(Then Minister of Security) Take this thing and give it to those people there in the
army barracks because it involves the army.
They went immediately to the army barracks and explained the urgency of the matter,
because Costa and others were meeting the next day at 3 PM in Manzini, and suggested
that Mozambican security people were sent to check who would be present and take
photos.
In the night the paramilitary knocked at William’s door. Peter was staying with him.
They came to pick up Peter. Williams insisted on going with him. Straight into the
barracks. There they got arrested and put in some rooms downstairs. Shoe laces off.
Watches off. They managed to contact Mabhida who contacted Minister Matsinha and
around three o’clock they were taken out. They never got the list back. Williams
expresses the frustration that part of the Mozambican Security was with the ANC.
Another part was not and didn’t trust the ANC security.
He and the whole world had to wait until June 1982 to understand what was the reason
for this situation and the reason why they never got their list back.
The name Jorge Costa was the name of the National Director of Security and Intelligence
in Mozambique (SNASP), who was second only to the Minister and a personal adviser of
the Supreme Commander, Samora Machel. Born in 1952 in Nampula to Portuguese
parents he went to study in Portugal from 1970 to 1974 and returned to Mozambique at
the time of independence, enthusiastically supportive of Frelimo and soon got a job as an
inspector with the police. He went to the security police in 1978 and a few months later
was taken to Cuba with the head of counter intelligence Matias Xavier. Upon return he
was promoted to this leading post and started restructuring the Department. He had
access to all files, including the files of the ANC. He had Samora’s trust and was
nominated Frelimo head of a three men group which together with a three men group
from the ANC, headed by Joe Slovo, should form a commission to plan the future
cooperation between the two organisations.
When exactly he decided to change his alliance with Frelimo is not clear, but on the 6th of
June 1982 he defected to South Africa carrying a lot of useful information for the
apartheid regime about the ANC, its operations and cooperation with the Mozambican.
No surprise that SNASP was not interested in Williams getting to know this ‘business
man’, Jorge de Costa and his trips to South Africa and Swaziland. The scandal and the
horror which exploded in Mozambique on the 6th of June haunted Mozambique for many
years..
The next important information their network in Pretora provided them with was the
attack on Matola. They were first informed that a major attack was going to take place on
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September 1980. By then all the residences were well armed. As head of security, Willie
Williams mounted a defence scheme and also went to the houses of the RPC members.
He hardly slept, and spent most of his nights driving around in the streets of Maputo.
Again the Mozambicans didn’t take it seriously. September goes by. October goes by.
Nothing happens. Williams get a new piece of information: Before December. They even
had a date: on the 28th of November. But nothing happened. The comrades start calling
him the ‘scare-crow’.
Perhaps the 16th of December would be a good date for the enemy to strike. Youth Day
the 16th of December? Scarecrow. Or December 25th, 26th. During Christmas
celebrations. Also no attack. They knew that the askaris were paid every month between
the 25th and the 28th and then went on four days leave, came back to report and then
went for their different missions. Maybe when they were back? Scare-crow. Guebuza’s
machinery held a seminar to plan next year’s activities and went to Swaziland which was
also the time to meet friends and contacts. Peter Boroke, Willie’s colleague suggested:
New Year’s Eve when everybody would be drunk. Still no attack. Scare-crow. On the 8th
of January, ANC’s anniversary? ‘Scare-crow’.
On the 28th and 29th, Williams, Peter, Joe Mukaba, Farouk, the whole security unit felt
that something was going to happen. And they suspected that the Boers were out for their
residences in Matola, where they would really have got a lot of Intelligence stuff.
From Peter Stiff's book The Silent War where he describes Operation Beanbag, the SADF
name for the Matola operation, we understand why the ANC security could not get the
date right. The operation was intended to start in November-December 1980. The whole
operation was set up. The command group was set up. The fighting column activated at
Komatipoort at dusk, left as scheduled and made its way to the border fence and
continued through the bush until the main road towards Matola.
‘Then everything that could go wrong went wrong, from vehicle breakdowns to a
major failure of radio communication [...] By the time they reached Moamba, 43
km from the border, the mechanical situation had reached crisis point... the
commander decided the raid should be aborted [...]
Peter Stiff has gotten his information from the SADF by reading the internal documents
of their archives. It is interesting reading, because the many errors and mistakes that he
reveals in the book, are not his, but those of the South African information services. I was
surprised to hear about a first failed attack which I had never heard mentioned not even
by our security people.
Peter Stiff also talks about an agent living in Maputo, a white ex-Rhodesian who had
formerly served with the Special Branch of the British South African Police and had
worked with the SAS during the war days. This agent drove from Maputo that afternoon
to give the attackers a final briefing on the state of the roads, the appearance of road
blocks and other matters of interest. We will come back to this agent in a later chapter.
When Mabena and others were asked whether there were blacks amongst the South
African attackers or whether all the ‘blacks’ were whites painted black, they didn’t know.
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Stiff gives us the answer through a very amusing little story about the padre - the
dominee - from the Dutch Reformed Church who addressed the soldiers before they
parted on their mission. The padre launched into a major tirade against Blacks not taking
into consideration that black troops, who were scheduled to play key roles in the
operation, were parading together with the white troops. After talking about the big battle
with the Zulus he emphasised that even in modern times it was still ons witte mense—we
white people—pitted against die swarte mense—the black people. The troops listened in
embarrassment as the dominee made a thorough fool of himself and by association, the
rest of the whites, by confidently predicting that with prayer the bullets of their black
enemies would turn to water.
William was not only frustrated that the Mozambican security didn't listen to him.
Despite his high position as head of security in Mozambique, the leadership still did not
always accept his advice.
Ralph was an important guy within the military machinery. Nobody could touch him. He
must have been one of the main culprits in giving information that led to the attack. The
Security was suspicious of Ralph, but their warning was not accepted. There were too
many incidents where Ralph managed a nearly hopeless escape. One time they were
going to meet a source in Swaziland somewhere near Manzini at an open space near a
quarry. One of the drivers got suspicious and said to Ralph, why he took them to such a
dark place. Ralph tried to convince him to go on, but the driver said no and reversed.
When he reversed and made a U-turn shooting started. A real ambush. They would have
been killed there.
Ralph, however, was protected by a lot of people who didn’t want to hear that he could
be an enemy spy. The ANC military protected him, and since he was doing a lot of work
inside the country, it was a very sensitive issue. In a meeting with Joe Modise, J. S.,
Jacob Zuma and Guebuza they refused to listen to Williams, and J. S. even offended him
by saying: ‘Why don’t you go and check on your source!’ A remark Williams obviously
has never forgotten.
Only later did the ANC realise that Ralph was an informer. And they dealt with him
accordingly.
Williams warned against the bomb that killed Ruth First. He warned all the members of
the ANC, he went several times to the RPC meetings and to individual members and
appealed to everybody not to open any letters or parcels but to call security who would
open it for them. Yet, Ruth did not consider the warning or forgot it. For Williams and for
the whole Security Department it was a big loss, a big failure that haunted them for years
after.
It was the same source from Pretoria who warned him that the regime was desperate to
get hold of September. In a meeting with Mancheka (see later) he tried to influence the
leadership to take September out of the area, send him for training in the USSR for a
couple of years, as they had done with other comrades. But September was too precious
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and his work too important for this line to be followed. We will in a later chapter see
what happened to him.
When Peter Boroke left soon after the Matola raid—Williams took over as the head of
Security in Mozambique. Williams stayed in Maputo until 1984 when Cde Zuma took
over as head of the intelligence work. The source in Pretoria was arrested in 1986 and got
18 years. His link in Nelspruit was also caught. Williams was by now in Lusaka The
source from Pretoria ran away and came to Maputo where Zuma flew him to Zambia in
1986.
Williams likes to illustrate how good he was at his work with two stories: One about
how O.R. took a bank note with him to Europe, produced by Williams. The European
experts on falsification judged it genuine.
The other one was about Irvine Khoza, now head of the Football Association in South
Africa. According to Williams Irvine was caught by the Zimbabwean police with 40.000
R on him and mandrax. Williams was informed, because it is him who has given him the
money to take into the country. William goes to the Secretary General, Alfred Nzo and
says he must do something about it. He must help him out, otherwise all the money will
be confiscated. He must write a declaration that all that Irvine has got on him belongs to
the ANC. The Nzo refuses. He will not have anything to do with the mandrax. Williams
tries to convince him, but in vain. He goes back to the office, takes the paper with the
letterhead of the Movement, writes the declaration and signs with a perfect, false Nzosignature.
But Williams never got his relationship with the Movement right. In 1987 he was
suspended for alleged mandrax traiding and car stealing together with a number of
leaders within the Intelligence. The inquiry was never terminated and as far as I know is
hanging up till now. But in 2004 (check) after having completed these interviews, Willie
Williams himself has passed away.
This dedicated but for ever ‘lumpen’ comrade, had his own problems with the
Movement. but the other problem was that the ANC as such and the ANC comrades were
very careless about Security.
I remember discussing with Mike Muller, Sertorio’s friend from Beira who later moved
to Maputo, how I often felt afraid of being considered a sisi if I raised security questions.
You had to be brave, and therefore thinking of security was like a weakness. Admitting
defeat to the enemy.
There are endless examples of the carelessness of the comrades in regard to security.
Comrades deep underground would appear at the dollar shop in Maputo and not only buy
whiskeys but stand around and share their bottle. Comrades would go into the country in
very sensitive work, go straight back to old girl friends, start fights with present
boyfriends and end up in prison.
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When the ANC office was attacked in December 1982, the comrades staying there had
gone out to drink and to spend the night with their girlfriends, although the place was to
be guarded for 24 hours. Then the the chief representative at the time, invited journalists
to come to the place, when everything was just in a disorganised mess. Maybe this was to
prove what havoc the Boers had created. But the fact was that all kind of documents were
lying around, travel documents, death certificates, birth certificates of the comrades for
any journalist to know about.
I was pleased to know how concerned our leadership was with the security, as Rachid
was explaining in a previous chapter. But for us on the ground, it was the attitude of the
comrades we worked with that counted and whether they respected and trusted the work
you were doing. They laughed at you if you took security seriously. Too many comrades
were lost on this account.
Florence had worked hard with the Medical Committee as the only fully trained nurse
from 1976 to 1983 as we saw in a previous chapter. She had taken care of many other
duties than strictly medical. Now she was needed in Angola. And at the same time the
number of comrades coming into the area was rapidly growing. If Florence said that
thousands passed through her hands, how many more were not to be looked after now.
The South African doctor living in Maputo, Carol Marshall had been helping out. She
had done a heavy job of going to the underground cadres house, but she could only do so
much. She worked for the Mozambican Health System and was being transferred to
Quelimane.
We also had the help of a Canadian doctor, George Povey. He too worked for the
Mozambican Health System, but made himself available at any time for the ANC. He
was devoted to helping us and a mild and very human doctor always at work [...] when
he didn’t put on his bicycle helmet, lifted his bicycle down from the fifth floor where he
was living as Albie’s neighbour and rode to Costa do Sol on his daily exercise. You could
meet him either early in the morning or towards the end of the day. A completely unseen
exercise in Maputo. Only the Dutch or the Danes would also produce a bicycle, and ride
it [...] at least on the 1st of May for the Workers Demonstration.
But Povey was not always there. We needed our own doctor. An ANC doctor.
Pren Naicker had been trained as a doctor in the Soviet Union. He was now back in
Lusaka and was very happy there. He felt he learned a lot. He felt satisfied that he could
help the comrades. And he was very happy being back in Africa after a long spell in
Europe and then in the USSR. He tells with laughter how diplomatic the Movement could
sometimes be. He went to the hospital in Lusaka one day to visit one of his patiens,
Sankie Manyamela, the present Minister of Housing. How was she doing? Chat Chat.
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Chat. When she suddenly said: I hear that there is a suggestion that you go to
Mozambique. Pren surprised. Pause. Would you go? If the Movement wanted me to go, I
would go, he said after a brief moment. This was definitely not her own initiative; it was
the subtle way of the ANC to introduce the topic and see how Pren would react. Both
sides could still get out of it. Or they could go on with the plans. Normally you would
now wait. But Pren took the initiative and went to the Secretary General, Alfred Nzo, to
hear it from his own mouth and to suggest that he be sent to Angola first to have some
background for working in a forward area. But no. The Secretary General just said: I am
giving you an order. You are going to Mozambique. Pren was taken by surprise with this
fait accomplis, and Nzo continued:
The reason why we want you to go is that the soldiers who are going inside the country
are getting sick. We want to know why they are getting sick. You have to do something
about this. It is affecting our operational capacity.
Pren’s life story is that of an activist family. He was born into the struggle in Durban, in
1951. His father was a known figure in the Movement, an activist at a high level and
later editor of Sechaba. His childhood is full of memories about his father appearing,
disappearing, for days of meeting and underground, and for prison spells, for brutal visits
by the police in the middle of the night. Memories also of political sessions that took
place in the house with people like Mandela, Sisulu, Duma Nkokwe. Memories of how
he did not recognise the man knocking on the door only to discover, when he entered the
house, that it was his father in full disguise. Memories of a mother who was sent to prison
during the Defiance Campaign.
The father left for London and Pren was around 13-14 years old when he and the family
joined the father. The going to London was a very difficult period. The readjustment was
heavy for him and his sister who joined them six months later. He went to a Grammar
School and the first day he was spat at. For racial reasons, he believes. Slowly he settled
in. He used to go to the ANC office.
Pren: And the important part there was that I started my political life cleaning the
office rooms. I was part of a duty roster of the youth. We used to clean floors. We
used to go there every weekend. And we used to clean floors…
Then we got involved with youth activities. Demonstrations. And that is how my
political life started to get hold of itself. That is when I really realised who my Dad
was and what he stood for. And we began to read about the Mozambican, the
Frelimo struggle , PAIGC, ZAPU… We were groomed by people like Esop. Like
Bizo Sobisana. Like Thabo Mbeki.
He finished his O- levels and then his A-levels in the UK before going to the Soviet
Union in 1971.
Pren: I think my Dad wanted me to go to the Soviet Union because he wasn’t
earning...well, he was like a voluntary worker, and he wasn’t earning very much I
don’t think he had enough money to even send me to a British University. He
encouraged me to apply to Oliver Tambo, to see whether I could get a scholarship
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to go to the Soviet Union. He encouraged it very strongly. And I have no regrets
about that. At the age of 19 or 20, I went to the Soviet Union to study...
So he spent the next decade studying medicine in the Soviet Union.
When Pren arrived in the office in Maputo in 1983, he realised that many people came to
have a look at him. The commanders would come out of their hiding as well as the
political people. Thami Zulu. Ralph. Peter Patel. Even the commanders from Swaziland
like Archie and Guebuza’s brother came to suss him out. And the political: Leonard,
Ivan, Ray. To see whether this was a person they could work with. He realised how much
needed he was and what a crucial role he was playing.
Malume who was the acting chief rep. when Pren arrived, looked at him and asked him
whether he could drive. He lied and said yes, where upon Malume would hand him the
keys for a car standing in front of the office. Now what did he do? He called Irene, the
auxiliary nurse and whispered to her that she would have to go with him to the car, and
teach him how to drive it. She did this very patiently and very bravely, because his first
couple of goes on the car were disastrous. When he describes the mistakes he made and
her reactions, you think about all the comrades who have probably done the same thing,
driven a car without having learned it. But he did eventually learn, and later managed to
get a Swazi driving licence. But having a car was essential for a doctor. And who would
have given up such an opportunity to get hold of one taking the scarcity of cars into
consideration.
The serious disease Nzo had been talking about was malaria. And indeed Pren was
puzzled by the number of cases he found. He became even more puzzled when he
realised that some of the comrades he treated against the disease and who left to go inside
got the disease again soon after they had finished their treatment.
He then started being very scientific about his approach. He followed two persons whose
military operations were delayed for a month and whom he could therefore have the time
to observe very carefully, Cde Mavis and Cde Euphilio. After any malaria treatment you
have an immunity of three weeks afterwards. But he found that they had the disease in
the blood soon after. He discovered that the mosquitoes were chloroquin resistant. This
was something quite new in those days. Pren looked for a malariarologist and the Central
Hospital and found one who was working for the WHO, Almeida Franco. Together they
developed a whole research scheme, and the two poor ‘victims’ had to be taken day by
day to the hospital and get tested. Every day one finger was pricked and the blood tested.
They experimented with different types of antidosis, chloroquin, fansidar, darachlor, etc.
The unit was now being seriously delayed because of these tests until eventually they
found out which drogue would do the job. But it also meant that Pren had to find out
where those resistant mosquitoes, unknown in Mozambique, had come from. It was the
real fighters! They traced them back to the camps in Angola, which had probably got
them from the comrades in Tanzania. The overall responsible for Health, Manto
Mshabalale came to Mozambique to discuss the problem, and according to Pren, this was
one reason for closing down the camp in Malanje. In stead they found another area to
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open a camp where there were not the lakes and ponds that were abounding around
Melanje. Almeida wrote a report which was published in one of the Scientific Research
Journal where it is mentioned that the first cases of resistant malaria was found on
members of the Liberation Movement.
The next problem he had to do something radical about, was that many comrades in the
forward areas and also inside the country were complaining that they didn’t want to go to
the local hospitals. The doctors there didn’t understand them, didn’t do the job properly,
and first of all that these doctors would often hand you over to the police. Pren had to
find a sustainable solution.
In the Soviet Union every family unit is expected to care for itself. In every family there
is one person who knows about these things. It is called the Felshare system. There are
special courses where they learn to use Narodna, national medicines. If you have got a
flue, you don’t go to a doctor. In the household somebody, often the mother, will look
after you. She will know which tea is good. She will put the ‘starving monkey’ which is a
glass suction system. She will prepare an auto-immune booster mechanism with mustards
seeds etc.
Pren was surprised to meet a completely different attitude in the comrades. As soon as a
man has a rasping throat he must see a doctor. ‘Doctor, my throat is sore.’ He doesn’t
know what to do and he becomes totally miserable and paralysed.
Pren reckons that nearly 90% of diseases is something you can cure yourself with a little
bit of extra knowledge. First of all it was important that people could diagnose their
diseases. So he decided to write a Manual. At the time there was a famous manual that
we all knew, called ‘Where there is no doctor’, written by a Canadian doctor, David
Worner) working in Latin America. He would use this book as a starting point to give the
information about snake bites, spider bites, contaminated water, cholera, salmonella. And
he would use his knowledge from the Soviet Union.
He worked on it in all possible spare times, typed it out and distributed it to the Units. But
he doubts that it was being used very much. The concept of disease is difficult to change,
there was no time to do a proper training of health people, so the comrades continued to
rely heavily on the doctor.
Pren would be called to a house or a flat where a comrade was sick. After the Matola
raids the comrades were no longer living together in big numbers. There would be four or
five in a flat all over town, and all over the surrounding areas, Matola, Liberdade, Luis
Cabral etc. The area was vast, and he travelled around alone. Although he had not been
trained as a military cadre, he was aware of the security question, so much that he didn’t
even make a written report, sometimes he didn’t even ask for the name of the person. He
came in, carrying his bag with medicine and did his job. Sometimes if he didn’t have
supplies he would have to go back to the office to fetch more.
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On his rounds he realised that one of the very difficult problems amongst the comrades
was their mental health situation. Both because they lived so isolated, but also because
they were in terrible stressed situation about their next operation inside the country. The
situation got worse as informers and infiltrators moved in. There was a period where
comrades were literally caught in the moment they got onto South African territory. The
Boers were waiting for them. Now and again, a South African doctor, Fredy Reddy
would visit the area and Pren would have long discussions with him, but Freddy was
based in Norway and only got out once or twice a year. And there was Mzaimbu, there
was Lusaka, there was Angola, there were many areas he had to cover.
Pren: Mental Health was one of our major problems. In Mazimbu and Dakawa we
opened up a whole bay for our mentally ill comrades. But that was not a good thing
to do. We didn’t have a way of screening them. Those who had a problem ended
up there. The reason for mental diseases are many. You get the predisposing
factor. And if you are in a war situation and you go into the country with a unit,
people break down and they just have to come back. So there were lots of people
in the front area that I used to meet from the forward areas, whether MaputoSwaziland or Zimbabwe, Botswana, along all those routes we had people coming
back all the time, most because of the precipitating factor of war and the dangers
that were there, and even if you were trained you ended up breaking down.
The stupid thing was also, that for mental disturbances or simply for stress prevention
you don’t need a doctor. Nurses, social workers, even family could go in, but taken the
security situation into account, the comrades could not receive a lot of visitors, and clung
on to the doctor when he came for a visit. Pren didn’t distribute sleeping pills and other
sedatives. He didn’t believe it would really work. But the problem was staggering. And
obviously one of the ‘solutions’ was drinking and womanising. As was so often what our
comrades decided on. A dangerous cocktail, particularly as there were always weapons
and informers around.
And this created another health problem that was very widely spread amonst the
comrades: the Sexually transmitted diseases (SDIs). Pren does not talk about HIV/Aids. It
was early days for this disease still, but gives an example of one of his cases:
Old Victor was suffering from gonorrhoea. Pren had him admitted into hospital. But it
takes a long time for this to be cured, up to four weeks sometimes, during which time you
have to lie completely still on your back with everything tied up on your stomach. He
belonged to J.S. The unit was getting impatient. They couldn’t move in without him. He
was a specialist in fine lockers. And they came to ask Pren to let him come. Pren refused
and said he was not ready yet. J. S. also pressurised him. But Pren refused. They trained
somebody else and went in. But failed totally. J. S. comes back, and eventually Pren goes
to Old Victor and asks him how he is feeling. He has been lying for about three weeks
and Pren can see that the swelling is slowly subsiding and getting softer. They discuss it.
Pren tells him that he is not ready yet, but that the comrades are asking for him. Old
Victor knows that he has to climb fences and will be exposed to other physical hardships
but says: Let me go. Pren decides that he will stay another two-three days, then Pren will
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tie it up to his stomach and let him walk around, do some running, and see how it goes.
He reported that he felt strong enough. He went. He did his job. He came back. Pren was
delighted... and relieved... and first of all he had a deep respect for Old Victor.
Pren had three different target groups
To look after the operatives as has been described above. There was never any doubt in
his mind that this was the most important part of his job. This was the reason why he had
come, and in general this is also what he had learned from colleagues in Lusaka. You put
everything aside if there is a sick comrade.
The other important task was to look after the rest of the ANC Community. Also an
extensive task.
The third one - and you are surprised there was even time for a third one - was his daily
work at the Chamanculo Hospital. He worked full time as a doctor for the Mozambicans
at this hospital. He had a little room, where he dealt with cuts and bruises. All major
operations were carried out at the Central Hospital and the patients transferred. But little
by little he developed his activities and transformed the little room to a small operation
theatre, where he dealt with people with knife stabbing, serious wounds, lacerations of
lips, resuscitating people. It was the years where Mozambique had very few trained
doctors. Many of them were foreigners, and worked long hours to cope with the great
influx of patients. But even more it was the time that the Bandits got closer and closer to
the Centre of town. It was no longer safe to travel to Matola at night. There were constant
attacks and people getting killed or wounded in busses and in the streets. Chamanculo is
on the way from Matola to Maputo, in an area which is highly populated, near
Xipamanine.
Like he had worked in Lusaka with the Zambians, Pren made himself available as part of
helping the Mozambicans in their war against the South Africa supported Renamo. It
made sense for him. And it was an agreement between the Mozambican government and
the ANC that he be used as one of their doctors.
Pren, like health authorities all over the world, was very impressed with the Mozambican
Primary Health System
Pren: You’ve got a terrific lot of people working in the Ministry of Health.
Expatriates as well as local Mozambicans. The concept of Primary Health Care
getting down to grassroots level health care laid for me a foundation of an ideal
system, and we use some of the arguments here now in SA in trying to develop
our health system from that experience.
You can’t avoid, looking at Primary Health Care and saying that Mozambique is
one of the first countries where Primary Health Care has been successful.
Even during the war period. The approach was amazing. Absolutely amazing. And
if we have to look at our health system now, there is an input from Mozambique
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into our health strategy. There is definitely an input from there. Powerful
experience.
As is clear to everybody, Pren did not stop very much over at home. But the reason was
also that he didn’t have one. Finally it got too much and at one stage, he approached the
Minister of Health together with Zuma to ask why he had not been given housing
facilities, having lived in 35 different houses since he came and occupied the places when
other people were going on holidays. He was pleased to discover that Pascoal Mocumbi,
the then Mozambican Minister of Health and himself a doctor, clearly knew what he had
done. Mocumbi knew about his work in Chamanculo Hospital and about the work he was
doing daily with the Mozambicans there. Mocumbi knew about his research into malaria.
And Mocumbi, also knew how he was trying to solve problems of Mental Health of the
population, because he had tried to use some of the ideas he had elaborated with Freddy
Reddy in the context of the Chamanculo Hospital. Like the ANC comrades many of his
Mozambican patients were traumatised, had witnessed attacks, had lost loved ones, were
scared of what could happen. The uncertainty of the future was probably the worst.
He got his house at last.
He needed it. His wife was coming to visit him for the first time.
When he left the Soviet Union for Lusaka he left his girlfriend behind, a Russian
epidemologist. He went back to marry her and left her, now pregnant and later that year
gave birth to a son. When she came to visit Pren in Maputo the Soviet authorities made
sure she would come back. They did not allow the son to go with his mother. This was a
constant pain in the eight months she stayed with Pren, and a great pity. With her training
she would have fitted into the Mozambican Public Health Scheme. When she left to go
back to her son, she was pregnant again, and Pren now had a family of three far away.
It was painful as it has been to so many other comrades. Separations of long periods.
Misunderstandings and not enough time to heal the wounds created by the absences. If
you came from the same background you were at least on common ground, and gave the
same meaning to words like ‘jealousy’, ‘family’, ‘the role of the struggle’ ‘time’. When
you come from different backgrounds and have to define what you mean by the
obligations and pleasures of married life, you need a lot of time together. Pren did not
have this opportunity. Many did not have this opportunity. The struggle was paramount.
His family did come back with him to a free South Africa, and he did get some time to
see his children growing the last part of their childhood and youth, but somehow, the
struggle had eaten up the family relationship and they had to move apart.
His case was not an exemption. The family was one painful thing many comrades had to
sacrifice for the struggle.
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Chapter Four
A Great Betrayal? The Nkomati Accord and the ANC
The Nkomati Agreement was perhaps the most important single event in the development
of the relationship between Mozambique and South Africa.
‘HE SIGNED! HE SIGNED!’
On March 16 Maputo’s experimental television station and Radio Mozambique’s
national network broadcast live the ceremony in the Nkomati Valley where the nonagression agreement with South Africa was signed.
In Maputo people gathered round television sets in community halls and clubs.
Just before noon, President Samora and Prime Minister P.W.Botha picked up their
gold pens and signed the documents. At that moment people in Maputo leapt to
their feet and began to sing and dance. ‘He signed! He signed!’ many of them
shouted.
‘He’, was P.W.Botha.
On that Friday morning two Mozambican railway trains carrying Mozambique’s
invited guests to the ceremony left Maputo for the border town of Ressano Garcia.
At every station along the way hundreds of people had gathered to wave flags at
the passing trains. The mood was one of gaiety. But that was nothing compared to
the scenes in those same stations in the afternoon when the trains came back.
The agreement had been signed. Then and only then was the mood of celebration
uncontained. The singing, clapping and dancing was truly deafening.
This is how AIM in March 1984 describes the signing of a peace and non-aggression pact
between Mozambique and South Africa. It was how the Mozambican leadership wanted
to ‘sell’ the news and the fact that they had pacted with the enemy.
The surprise was that the other "HE" had signed…. meaning President Samora Machel.
The victory-description forgot to mention that neither Nyerere, president of Tanzania, nor
Kaunda, president of Zambia, both close friends and allies to Samora Machel wanted to
participate in the Agreement Ceremony. And that Nyerere’s recent visit to
Mozambique—although described in the same issue of AIM as being one of support—
was with the aim to dissuade Samora from making the agreement.
The victory description also forgot to tell about the moods of the signatories. Many years
after the signing I showed Graça Machel a photograph from one of my books where she
is sitting at the Signing Ceremony together with P. W. Botha’s wife. Her whole face is
tense and bitter. She doesn’t manage to pretend. Her face makes a lemon taste sweet. She
is terrified of the memories that this picture evokes. She recalls her feelings on that day.
She had made up her mind the day before. She was sick. Literally sick. She vomited and
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had headaches. She could not go. The whole thing was just too painful. Then she had a
look at her husband. And she realised she had to go. His feelings were like hers. His
stony face. She had to be there to support him.
Under the terms of the agreement the two states undertake ‘to forbid and prevent in their
respective territories the organization of irregular forces or armed bands, including
mercenaries’ who intend to attack the other " and "to eliminate from their respective
territories bases, training centres, places of shelter, accommodation and transit’ for
persons who plan to carry out acts of violence against the other state.
And as a sign of utter kindness, the South African President, P.W.Botha promised the
Mozambican population fresh apples to be distributed at creches, nurseries schools and
hospitals. Indeed, the young ones didn’t even know what an apple was. Cheap benignity.
Symbol of the South African paternalism and bad faith which would soon be discovered
at a different and much more serious level. The South Africans had no intention what so
ever to fulfill its side of the agreement.
But the children learned to sing ‘Obrigado Vovo Botha’ (Thank you, granpapa Botha)
To us from the ANC the most painful thing about the event was not that we could not
understand that Mozambique was pushed to go into the Crocodile’s mouth (P.W.Botha’s
pet name). The MNR activities had been stepping up to a scale where any thought of
developing the country was impossible and both lives, schools, health posts were
destroyed on a daily bases. The painful part of accepting the signing of the Accord was
that it was being sold as a Victory. And that thousands of Mozambicans who used to be
our friends, were persuaded into believing in this as a big victory. Yes, we felt betrayed.
The price for this wonderful peace was the ANC.
The whole of the ANC had to leave except from ten people in the office and those who
were contracted by the Mozambican government. All the work we had carefully
developed since 1975 was gone overnight. The development of Ordnance, Military,
Special Ops., Political, the Alliance, Security, Health…. the comrades had to leave there
and then in a completely unorganised way.
The reaction of the ANC comrades and their Mozambican supporters was that of total
surprise and feeling of betrayal here expressed in the words of two women:
First from the mouth of one Mozambican woman who had always been very close to the
ANC, Celia Meneses. I knew her through her mother, Elisabeth Meneses, originally a
South African, with whom I worked at the Ministry of Education trying to set up an
English teaching system. Celia had always been a devoted Frelimo supporter, and of that
first crop that went all the way. She was one of the first law students of the Faculty and
managed to conclude her studies before the Faculty was closed. (see chapter....).
At the time of the Nkomati she was a close friend to one of the ANC commanders, Alfie,
who stayed at her place.
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Celia: Em 84 com o Acordo do Nkomati sou considerada como uma menina do
ANC desde que tinha esta relacao... Com Alfie.... Entao, eu era considerada como
uma menina do ANC dentro da seguranca mocambicana. Eu lembro-me
perfeitamente ter uma discussao terrível em casa de um amigo, Mia Couto, que
era director do Jornal. Eu dizia que epa... toda a gente disse que a final o inimigo
nao era Africa do Sul. Agora e andar para frente, levar as coisas o melhor
possível. Mas eu nao me esqueco destas discussoes horrorosas que me fazia tao
infeliz porque eu nao conseguia nem olhar para a minha televisão todo o tempo...
Ao fim da tarde cheguei para a minha casa, ao meu prédio. Minha flat tinha policia
militar. Policia militar. Policia militar. Aqueles gachos assim. Eu chego na minha
moto. (whispers) Epa. Este é para mim, pa. Este e a minha flat.
Eu vou para a casa de Daniel: ‘Daniel, eu tenho policia militar na minha casa e
nao posso entrar là ...e nem sei o que deixaram là. Porque os amigos de
Alfie...nao sei, brincavam em outro quarto que eu tinha na minha casa deixaram
as suas coisas. Deixaram roupa, deixaram coisas, levaram coisas e outras
deixaram, e eu nem sabia o que estava lá porque nem abria os fatos...
(whispers).... e eu imagino agora vou chegar là, abrir a porta e vou ser chamada a
demostrar ou tirar qualquer coisa. O que que eu vou fazer? Volto para a casa de
Mia? Digo: Daniel, eu não posso dormir na minha casa, vou ficar a dormir contigo
(laughs, upset). Ficavamos a dormir os dois. Daniel é um amigo meu de crianca...
Dormia toda a noite, mas eu nao dormia nada (laughs, tense) estou a pensar. Que
vou fazer da minha vida? Uma outra amiga brazileira disse: epá, nao voltes a tua
casa, fiques a nossa casa. E eu só voltava para a minha casa quando jà tinham
acabado de andar na casa,e tirar da minha casa e não sei que.
Quando chego là... O, antes ainda de ir para minha casa, vou a
presidência...(laughs) na minha moto. Vou a presidência. Entro e disse que queria
falar com o Senhor Ministro da Seguranca. Naquela altura era Sergio Vieira. Digo:
Eu quero saber se eu sou o Inimigo. Eu venho aqui só perguntar uma coisa: E se
eu sou o Inimigo porque eu ainda não percebi. E talvez voces podem me explicar
porque eu sou o inimigo, porque eu tenho policia militar na entrada do meu prédio,
na entrada do elevador, na entrada da minha flat, na entrada da garagem. Todos
os meus vizinhos...somos pessoas em 17 andares ... estão a pensar que eu fiz
alguma coisa. Eu quero saber: O que que eu fiz. ‘Porque tu tens gente do ANC na
tua casa’. E eu disse: Eu quero saber se isto é ser inimigo? E isso dar direito a eu
ter policia militar. Voces nao me podem dizer se tem direito a verem a minha casa.
‘Nos temos que ser iguais para todos.’ Ogh. Iguais para todos? Eu gostava de vos
ver actuar assim em relação a outras coisas. Melhor dizer a minha cara que eu
sou Inimigo. E se não são capaces de dizer, vão-me tirar aqulea poíicia dali.
Então!. Eu saio... ‘porque não se enamora, quando sendo na guerilla, não se
enamora’ ... eu só olhei para ele ‘ que pena não ter as vossas poemas aqui tao
celestes’, que pena. e saí. Saí furiosa. Saí de là e não sabia o que que que devia
fazer.
Depois desto eu decidi que eu não queria trabalhar mais (whispering)..se eu sou o
inimigo que façam os seus trabalhos.
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And then in the words of Sue Rabkin who always tries to look at events from the
amusing side:
When the Nkomati Accord came, till this day I will never forget that sweet
policeman—was that what he was? or army chap—coming into the flat with about
fifteen people, knocking on the door saying in broken English: ‘Is this the flat of
Cde Sue?’ (laughs). I said yes. He continued: I am terribly sorry. Would you give
me, I do not want to do this, I am under orders, would you please allow me to go
through your flat and search it. And she said yes of course. And they searched
superficially. They didn’t want to do it. It was not like that in many cases. At J.S.’s
place they took a lot of stuff there. As they came in, I had given David hand
grenades, detonators, all in Pick n’ Pay bags, and I said: Just go out with the stuff.
While they were there. I had seen them coming. I had put it all in these bags.
David had only been in Maputo for about three days. Just take these bags. Give
half of them to Alma, and put the other half... you see that grey car...’the ship’, put
it in the ‘ship’. David said: You are not serious. Is it going to blast? I said: Nothing
is going to happen. Just keep the detonators in your one hand, and the grenades
in the other. Don’t put the two together. It was insane. And David went out with
these plastic bags. He was shaking, as you can imagine. Take the kids. ‘Joby,
Franny, let us go for a walk, children’. They are searching the flat. I am keeping an
eye on the car all the time. It is packed. Packed. The rest of the stuff went to
Bernadette and—which I am not supposed to say, but I must say it, because these
comrades must get the credit—the rest went to the Cubans. They took it in, which
they were not allowed to do. The Cubans took our stuff. ‘Don’t tell us what is in the
bags. Just leave them there. We don’t know what you are doing. Just go’ And they
took it. And there was an accident, and one of the Cubans got very seriously
injured. They never criticised. They were wonderful. Meanwhile the stuff at
Bernadette’s... Now they are coming to check Bernadette. So they had to run and
get all the stuff out from there. So this stuff circulated around our structures—for
about five days. And of course we were putting like 90 comrades per night across
the border, and the best story that sums it up, was two comrades who got dressed
in Swazi doo-dah and were talking xiswati and across. That was Nkomati.
What led to this accord, and why did the extent of it come as such a surprise?
The talks had already started towards the end of 1982 and were headed at the
Mozambican side by Jacinto Veloso, at first Minister of Security, and at the time of the
accord he was Minister of Economic Affairs in the President’s office, Justice Minister
Oscar Monteiro, deputy Security Minister Salesio Nalyambipano and Sergio Vieira, then
Deputy Minister of Defence. On the South African side, the delegation consisted of
Foreign Minister Roelof Botha as the head, Law and Order Minister Louis le Grange and
Defence Minister Magnus Malan.
The Nkomati Agreement was perhaps the most important single event in the development
of the relationship between Mozambique and South Africa. Many books have been
written on the various aspects of the Agreement, and when interviewing the Mozambican
leaders who at the time were in the focus of the events, I heard from nearly all of them
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that when they retire they would like to sit down and write a book on the Nkomati
Accord.
South Africa was faced with political problems. First Soweto heralded the new uprising.
Then in 1983 the creation of the UDF which united the trade unions, the churches and
other Congress minded opponents of the regime. South Africa was also under economical
constraints. Since the mid- seventies the gold price had fallen, and gold was no longer the
value measure kept in all Reserve Banks. The Front Line states had created SADCC in
1980 with the defined objective of being economically independent of South Africa.
From 1977 there was an arms embargo on South Africa. As a result of their policy and of
the security situation in the country foreign investors were staying away, and some years
later came other sanctions from the UN like oil. South Africa needed desperately to clean
its image among Western investors and get out of the economic isolation. The response
had been to turn to the military. P.W.Botha who had been Defence Minister since 1966
became Prime Minister in 1978 and the government which had not interfered in support
of the Portuguese uprising against Frelimo in 1974 now struck another and much more
aggressive tone.
Mozambique had had an enthusiastic and positive period just after independence. It tried
to maintain the service link it had with South Africa and for the first years the harbour,
the railways were still being used by South Africa as before. In 1981 they defined a 10
years plan from 1981 to 1990. Now the drain of money as a consequence of the
boycotting of Rhodesia was over. With the Lancaster agreement over the independence
of Zimbabwe in 1980 the Mozambican optimism reached its peak. The hopes were big.
But this very talked about Development Plan needed capital and capital in foreign
exchange. The building of the Richard’s Bay Harbour meant that the import-export
servicing of South African goods fell drastically and so did the number of Mozambican
miners to South Africa from 100.000 to 40.000. Mozambique looked around for foreign
capital and decided—what seemed logical because of its political affiliation—to go to the
COMECON of the Eastern Bloc and ask for membership. Although some of the
COMECON countries like GDR, Bulgaria and Cuba voted for their entrance, the USSR
decided in 1982 to turn down their membership request, in other words to turn down their
possibility for USSR capital.
By that time it had become clear that instead of seeing an end of the terrorist activities
after the Independance of Zimbabwe, the terrorist attacks—after RENAMO had been
transferred to South Africa—took a serious upsurge in Inhambane, Gaza and the
Northern provinces of Zambezia, Tete and Niassa, while the bandits already dominated
several areas in Manica and Sofala. (7 out of 10 provinces)
From the moment Mozambique had been rejected by COMECON Samora Machel
seemed to forget the ten year plan and began to look to the West. The US had been put on
ice since the expulsion of the six Americans from the Embassy for being CIA agents
involved with the Matola massacre. But from 1982 a new diplomatic offensive was
started. The first meeting with Chester Crocker undersecretary and then secretary of
African Affairs for Reagan, was not very successful. But a year later Frank Wisner takes
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over his functions and seems to reach Samora Machel much better. In 1983 Mozambique
sent an ambassador to the US and Frelimo was slowly getting more palatable. The US
elections were approaching and Reagan needed the Afro-American voters. We were in
the height of the Cold War, and it was important to gain over Mozambique, away from
the Eastern influence which was still total – despite the rejection of entering the
COMECON - in relation to military, educational, diplomatic advisors.
It is the common need of Mozambique and South Africa to be recognised by the Western
Powers and their common need for economic growth that eventually made them approach
each other.
The first informal meeting took place already in December 1982. Then in May of 1983.
And in October. All vague and tentative mostly with the objective of assessing whether
they could actually trust each other. On both sides the two main needs were: Stopping the
support for the ‘terrorist’ aggressors (ANC and Renamo), and getting their economy
going.
In December 1983 the real talks began in Swaziland. Like in the previous talks it was
Jacinto Velsoso on the Mozambican side and Roelof ‘Pik’ Botha on the South African
side who led the delegations. Mozambique insisted that it could not recognise the
apartheid regime and its Bantustan policies and it could not denounce its support for the
ANC. The evacuation of all ANC members was a precondition on the South African side.
At the end of February a new meeting in Maputo with Veloso and Pik Botha where the
discussion focussed on peace and stability in the whole of the region. The South African
had wanted an agreement with a total rejection of the ANC but had met with a definite
refusal. It seems that they have realised that they could not move Samora totally away
from his support for the ANC, and instead accepted that a diplomatic representation of
ten ANC members could be accepted on condition that the South African could accept
the list of names that the Mozambicans presented. The main concern of the South
Africans was that Mozambique should no longer be used as a base for terrorist attacks
and planning.
The last meeting of these talks that had eventually led up to the accord took place in Cape
Town. Jacinto Veloso told me in a recent interview that he had been very worried:
Houve uma altura em que iamos ter conversacoes, as ultimas. Fomos para Cape
Town, as ultimas mesmas. Depois Cape Town foi Nkomati mesmo. E ali fizeramnos visitar Cape Town de helicopter. Foi interessante... e depois na despedida
houve uma coisa militar, e ele (Botha) dizia, eu quero vos dizer, que se voces não
cumprirem isso — ele estava a falar em nome dos militares que estavam
presentes. Se voces não cumprirem, as forças militares vem intervir. E eu disse:
Bom, isso e o que tem feito todo o tempo. Se não vamos cumprir voces vão
continuar a fazer o que fizeram. E ele disse: ‘Isso chama-se Cape of Good Hope,
de Esperança’ (queira simbolizar o Acordo). Mas em português da-se duas
interpretações do Cabo. The Cape of Good Hope . Porque (os marineiros) tinham
esperança, porque quando passavam os barcos, tinham esperança de chegar.
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Mas por outro lado, muitos barcos afundaram no Cabo, chama-se também Cabo
de Tormentos ..tem os dois nomes. Tormento e eu disse: Isto é o Cabo de Good
Hope, mas tambem e Cabo de Tormentos. Agora não sei se(O Acordo do
Nkomati) vai ser de Tormentos ou de Good Hope.
And on the 16th of March 1984 the Nkomati Agreement is signed. In a railway carriage
in the no-man land at Komatipoort between the two countries.
After all these talks and discussions, why did the ANC not know what was going to
happen? Why were they so surprised?
In January 1984 Samora Machel called Oliver Tambo to his summer place in Bilene and
informed him about the talks. But he was unable to give the whole picture. The ANC,
therefore was prepared for a parcial retreat and sent a new delegation in February headed
by Tambo and Nzo to convey to Machel how serious they considered his possible actions
against the ANC. They would be the most serious blow to the movement and a betrayal
to the revolution of Mozambique and the peace in Southern Africa as a whole. They were
assured that no lists from the South Africans would be accepted by the Mozambicans and
no demands for leaders (like Joe Slovo) to leave would be tolerated.
We have heard some of the emotions that ran amongst our supporters and our comrades
in the days after the Nkomati. What were the reactions from more high powered people
and leaders? I was surprised that it seemed to be such a unanimous decision. What were
the realities behind Nkomati and the reasons they gave each other?
Pamela dos Santos probably hits the point of the situation at the time:
There were different opinions about Nkomati in Frelimo, but on one hand it was a
very restricted number of people who were involved in the talks, and on the other
hand Samora had a very persuasive manner of getting people to follow him.
Marcelino was one of those who was opposed. He was then A Minister and the
Govenor of the Sofala Province and was called to take part in the Nkomati
ceremony. When he returned, he had to give a report to his provincial government.
I found him amazingly well spoken, when explaining why this agreement was
signed taking into consideration that he did not agree.
At the Centre of African Studies Aquino de Braganca made a big turn from his previous
attitude
In Rob Davis’ words.
Aquino went into a sort of a retreat, he took himself off for a time to try to
understand this thing, because clearly everything we had said before that, didn’t
lead in that direction. So he went off in a sort of retreat, then came back more
catholic than the Pope, and so yes, indeed, he became one of the converts to this
position and presented himself as a man of peace, looking for peace. You can,
however, give him credit for tolerating people with other views in the Centre. He
continued to encourage us to carry on working there, and then eventually as the
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evidence of betrayal mounted came back to ask us our views on what was going
on.
The ANC leadership received the information with various degrees of understanding.
Olver Tambo as always struck the considerate line and felt the importance of not pushing
Samora away, whereas the Secretary General Alfred Nzo wrote a very harsh
communiqué. In the discussion about when Samora actually informed the ANC and how
he informed them, Cabaço who was then the Minister of Information explains what
happened.
Há uma reunião que o Presidente fez com Oliver Tambo, com Moises Mabhida.
Estava Joe Slovo, Moises Mabhida, Alfred Nzo, Oliver Tambo, Samora Machel,
Fernando Honwana e Muradali. Muradalí era secretário do presidente. Todos
estão mortos agora.
Esta reunião era antes de Nkomati. 1983. Foi uma reunião em que o presidente
Samora preparou o caminho para Nkomati. Mas não disse que ia assinar o acordo
de Nkomati. Quer dizer: Fez uma reunião politica naqual explicou as razões...
explicou o seu pensamento político sobre Africa do Sul.
Agora O Presidente Samora tinha uma estrategia-Nkomati que era uma estrategia
dele, um estrategia defensiva, mas uma estrategia que tinha também uma
componente ofensiva no pensamento político dele.
O que que aconteceu? Aconteceu uma coisa extranhíssima. Primeiro aconteceu
que alguns dos seus colaboradores na delegação ou porque não discutiam
suficientemente com ele, ou porque não acreditavam naquilo que ele defendia,
não cumpriram o programa... não foram capazes de defender aquela posição.
Fizeram algumas declarações que não eram de Samora. Por outro lado o próprio
Samora ficou (sighs, looks for words) chokadíssimo com a declaração que Alfred
Nzo fez em Lusaka ao Acordo de Nkomati....a reação de um oficial do ANC ao
Acordo de Nkomati...mas mais do que isso...com Alfred Nzo estava preparado a
discutir, mas depois as declarações que o Presidente Julius Nyerere fez sobre o
Acordo de Nkomati, foram muito penosas para Samora. Então ele colocou-se
numa situação muito desagradavel. Eu era Ministro de Informação. Discutiamos
dias e dias e dias. Convenceu-nos a Sua Excelencia. Ele diz: Eu sou presidente
de um país soverano, não tenho que dar satisfação a ninguem. Faço o que quero.
Isso foi um erro gravíssimo na minha opinião que Samora fez. E que..entao toda a
cobertura informativa que se fazia a proposito do potencial que havia de luta, que
havia do Acordo de Nkomati ficou-se vaziado. Ficou grande vitória. Mas qual
vitória? De vitória não havia nemhuma. O próprio presidente retirou-se da batalha
política da defesa do Acordo para uma posição de grande chefe que da satisfação
a ninguem. Pronto. E isso é a pior coisa que podia ter feito.
Eu lembro-me. Fui com ele no avião para Dar-es-Salaam. E ele chamou-me, e
disse: escreve ahí os pontos para eu ficar com a sintese dos pontos. Eu escreví
os pontos. Quais são os argumentos? Escreve ahí quais são os argumentos do
Nzo. Escreve ahí quais são os argumentos de Nyerere, escreve ahi os nossos
pontos que é para eu ter uma sintese para consultar. Eu escreví. Tenho ahí.
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Escreví para ele. Ele chegou lá. Não leiou. Estava tão... ele habitou-se muito a ter
sempre o apoio dos camaradas. Oliver Tambo. Nyerere.
Ele era uma especie de ‘enfant terrible’ da Linha de Frente, e de repente sentia
um vazio a volta dele e ficou muito incomodado. Então perdeu a capacidade de
discutir. Eu penso que pegado nos pontos originais, alguma das previsões que
Samora fez verificaram-se. Eu penso que ele teria tido isso para dizer: A curto
prazo é um passo atras. Mas isto é uma nova estratégia para confrontar a Africa
do Sul,.. e era isso que tinha discutido ahí... era isso que se tinha discutido..
Mas nao tinha explicado bem. Porque ele nao queria falar do Acordo de Nkomati.
Com Oliver Tambo, com Nzo, ele tinha feito uma outra discusso sobre a natureza
da luta em Africa do Sul. Era a discussao que estava a correr, porque o próprio
Joe Slovo me disse: ‘Aquilo que o teu presidente disse, a gente jà esta a discutir
no ANC’. Foi muito interessante: ‘Jà estamos a discutir dentro do ANC. E alguns
problemas que levantou, são problemas e contradiçoes que nos temos em frente
do ANC desde o partido comunista até à ala mais liberal’. E por isso estava muito
interesado. Mas e aquilo que estamos a discutir. Passadas umas duas semanas jà
anunciou o Nkomati. Foi muito perto. Talvez foi uns dez dias antes do Acordo de
Nkomati.
Veloso is also of the opinion that Samora's Nkomati-thoughts were very important for
the future of Southern Africa:
Como é que nasce a ideia de se fazer um certo acordo com o regime de
apartheid? Esta ideia nasce com o presidente Samora e outros colegas por
exemplo Fernando Honwana que morreu no acidente com o presidente e outros...
mas era (da questão) de seguranca que começou a analizar a situação.
Chegamos a conclusao que como as coisas estavam a evoluir, era muito
provavel, que Africa do Sul, com o trabalho que estava a fazer de apoio a
Renamo, desestabilização, com o envio das suas proprias equipas de sabotagem,
com as agressões militares directas de aviação, tudo isso, encontrou mecanismos
para fazer uma agressão militar, de grande envergadura, de maneira a tomar a
cidade de Maputo, de tomar conta do governo talvez, especie de um golpe, e
meter um governo favoravel ao apartheid e assim destruir a Frelimo. Era maneira
mais facil, a capital esta quase dentro de Africa do Sul, na pratica , ... com as
forças armadas, e a Frelimo... a unica possibilidade que teria era se retirar por o
mato de novo e retomar e começar uma contra-guerilha. Mas isto o que
significaria na practica? um grande afastamento da Frelimo no poder e tambem a
liquidação do ANC que tinha uma base importante em Maputo. Em Matola. Esta
analise levou-nos, presidente Samora e um grupo a dizer: E se nos fizessemos
um acordo, ate foi aqui que surgiu o termo, ‘um pacto de boa vizinhanca e nãoagressão’.
Estava muito claro para nos, e para presidente Samora tambem, que essa ideia
de parrar a guerra não era possivel. E nao era possivel porque? Porque nao se
tratava dum conflito entre Moçambique e Africa do Sul de apartheid. Não era um
conflito entre paises. Era um conflito entre sistemas. Na prática era um conflito
entre a União Soviética e Os Estados Unidos de America. Os EEUUs e o
Occidente apoiou o apartheid como uma defesa contra o comunismo.Portanto não
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era nada provável que um acordo de boa vizinhanca e não-agressão podesse
conduzir a um acordo entre Frelimo e Renamo, porque este assunto mais global
não estava resolvido nos pontos essenciais.
Então é por isso que Moçambique actuou sozinho e as instruções do presidente
Samora era: Não vamos falar com ninguem. Alguns disseram: Mas temos que
falar com Nyerere. Pelo menos com Nyerere. E ele disse: Não. Porque se eu falar
com Nyerere, ele vai encontrar argumentos para nos parar. E isso nao. Eu acho
que foi uma manobra muito inteligente de Samora. Samora com os seus
colaboradores. E ele expos de uma maneira tal que realmente levou o mundo
anticomunista occidental a apoiar o acordo em quanto que todos os
progressistas... pois os soviéticos foram zangadísimos, porque nã foram
consultado, mesmo paises como RDA. Em Cuba foram acusações, uma tras a
outra, e mandaram enviados:’ Isto não pode ser. Voces são traidores.’ Mas o
objectivo era o interesse nacional, evitar a invasão, porque estava na preparação.
Os Boers exigiram a liquidacao do ANC. E claro, isso não pode e nos dissemos
que não. Podemos limitar. Mas não liquidar
In our interview Veloso insists that it was a victory, because he feels that Frelimo set the
terms for an opening of the talks with the Boers as the only way ahead. He underlines
how much of an effort Frelimo did, and he personally did in trying to convince the Boers
that if they could talk with a Black socialist government, where were the problems of
talking to a black movement within their own country. And one year after, at its Kabwe
conference in Zambia the ANC decided to start having talks with different elements of
White South Africa.
Immediately after the Nkomati agreement Mozambique set on her road to eventually
move towards economic development of the Western type. They started talks with the
Bretton Woods institutions in order to get loans and settle its debts.
As Lazaro Jose Macuacua writes in his History Thesis: Acordo de Nkomati: Esforcos
pela Paz e Coexistencia pacifica entre os estados da regiao austral de África (19751988) (Maputo 1998)
No encontro do Conselho de Ministros de 17-18 de abril 84 foi decidido o inicio de
conversações oficiais com vista a adherencia a o FMI e ao Banco Mundial e os
seus associados (IDA e IFC) e a analise do anteprojecto da Lei de Investimentos
Estrangeiros.
The same year the talks with the Paris club started. Two years later the Bureau Politico of
Frelimo accepted the terms and thereby introduced liberal economy in Mozambique.
There were talks about economic ties with South Africa, of investment and cooperation,
of tourism. And, indeed, in the months following the agreement several delegations, both
from business, (fishing, transport and tourism) and from government visited Mozambique
, but as Rob Davies indicated, nothing serious seems to be happening, either because
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Mozambique was too poor, or because, as Sergio Vieira puts it in an interview, that part
was just a show just like the collection of arms from the ANC houses that was never
meant to be taken seriously anyway.
Just a show. And I still remember another show. Another bitterness. We who were
allowed to stay because we had a job with the Mozambican authorities went to the airport
to greet our comrades as they walked from the airport building to the plane which was to
take them to Tanzania. Up till today the top floor of the airport building opens to the
airfield and it is a social event to go out on the balcony when a friend or relative leaves
the country. You will wave and shout the last greetings and questions to each other. So
we were all there, singing the same freedom songs that the Mozambicans usually loved to
hear during our May Day demonstration, waving, cheering, shouting Viva’s. But the
Mozambican authorities did not like that. They got jittery. And for the first and only time
in my life I saw a bus stopping in front of the airport building taking the second load of
ANC comrades from the airport to the plane. So that no one could get in contact with
them, no one could cheer them.
Rob recalls the whole thing as a big farce.
I remember I was sitting at the airport. There were these people coming
through, and there was a list of names, and I was helping the chief rep to tick
off the names. And he would shout "Guebuza" and somebody else walked
through on to the plane, it was a total farce. And of course all the people that
went on to the plane were not the people whose names were being called out.
But to Frelimo security it made no difference, and these guys flew off, and the
others of course went into Swaziland.
So, now that the ANC had left, would Renamo also stop their activities, and would South
Africa stop its support to them, which was the main concern for Mozambique?
A Joint Security Commission was set up under the terms of the accord and had its first
meeting in Maputo on March 26. The Head of the Mozambican side of the Commission
was Sergio Vieira, at the time Minister of Security, and the head of the South African
side was Police Commissioner General Johann Coetzee.
According to Joseph Hanlon in Beggar My Neighbour, South Africa sent six months’
supply to MNR during the two last months before the Nkomati agreement. They also sent
a training team to Zambezia Province before the signing. Then they stopped for a few
months, so that P.W.Botha during his tour to Europe could boast of being the big
peacemaker. However, the radio communication with the MNR was maintained, although
this was in direct contravention of the Agreement. The MNR requested more war
material, and Col. van Niekerk answered on the radio that they would have to use less
because at present the political climate was not conducive for them to send more. But on
July 20 the situation changed, the MNR met with Pik Botha and Magnus Malan and the
head of military Intelligence von Westhuizen. It was agreed to use private aircrafts and to
improve the airstrip at the MNR Banana House base and to call it ‘humanitarian aid’
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which would not be dropped by parachute but by landing aircrafts several times per
week.
On the 1st of October 1984 Veloso met with the South African Foreign Minister, Pik
Botha, in Pretoris to discuss the future of the Nkomati Agreement. Renamo’s
Headquarters were now in Lisbon with Evo Fernandes as its Secretary General, but
Mozambique knew that the real root to the massacres was the South African regime.
Two days later, on October 3 Frelimo and South Africa signed the socalled Pretoria
Declaration which talks about cease fire but without any concrete specification of how to
do it.
It was becoming clear that South Africa had no intention of stopping their support, not
only to MNR in Mozambique but also to UNITA in Angola where a similar process and
agreement had taken place. They tried to conceal it, but in 1985 a South African
commando was caught in Cabinda when trying to attack the Gulf Oil Installations (like
they had done in Beira in 82). That is when the commander, du Toit who had taken part
in the bombing of the ANC office in Maputo in Dec. 83 was caught and taken to an
Angolan prison.
Mozambique had to do something about South Africa’s agressions, and at a meeting in
June 1985 with Samora Machel, Robert Mugabe and Nyerere agreed to send troops to
Mozambique. The Zimbabwean troops first of all to the Manica Sofala provinces. With
their help the big attack on the main base of the MNR, the Gorongosa base took place on
the 28th of August 85. MNR fled but a series of devastating documents were found which
proved how intimately they South Africans had worked with the MNR.
Amongst the documents was the diary of Joaquim Vaz who was later to become the
secretary general of Renamo. Here you could follow step by step how the South Africans
had supported Renamo. It was clearly stated that the South Africans had not only
delivered weapon and ammunition to Renamo straight after the Nkomati Agreement
despite their signatory to the opposite, but also in the months leading up to the Accord
where there had been a heavy activity in delivery. They had pendled one airoplane load
after the other. The communication between Dhlakama and Colonel Niekerk with inputs
from the head of the SADF General Constand Viljoen in which Renamo begged for more
weapon. There was also the proof of the division between the political Pik Botha who is
planning to buy Machel over whereas the military are planning to eliminate him. There
are proofs of the trips of the deputy foreign minister, Luis Nel between Pretoria and
Gorongosa in mid-1985.
There have been many speculations to understand why South Africa entered in an
Agreement with Mozambique without any intention to keep it. According to Joseph
Hanlon (in obra cit) there were three competing views on what to do in Mozambique: the
active military solution of overthrowing the government; continue as before supporting
the MNR as part of a policy creating the ‘cordon of instability’; or to put more stress on
diplomatic and economic levers and sign a non-aggression pact. It seems that the State
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Security Council chose some vague in between. Or, as Rob Davies argues, the split in the
SSC might have been known to be so big that P.W.Botha decided not to raise it with
them at all leaving it to the different interest groups to pursue their own policies, with the
understanding, however, that before his trip to Europe, Botha should not be
compromised.
Another factor that should not be forgotten is that many of the South African military
leaders had close personal links and promises to the MNR which could not just be
overlooked. And not only to the MNR in Mozambique but to Portuguese business men
who had left Mozambique at Independence, os retornados, and who were constituting a
real force within the MNR.
This important proofs of Casa Banana were found just before a planned visit by Samora
Machel to the U.S.A, making it a very successful trip. In one way the aftermath and
obvious failure of Nkomati was less important for Ronald Reagan. He had obtained what
he wanted, the re- election as president with the help of the afro-american voters.
We, the ANC felt betrayed by the Mozambicans.
And yet it was the Mozambicans who were betrayed. After Nkomati, and despite the
promises of South Africa and the US, what followed was another eight years of Civil
War, of killings and destruction of human lives and Frelimo ideals and a total stop to any
economic development.
You could indeed call that Betrayal.
I don’t think that anybody in the Movement fully calculated what would be the
immediate damage to lines of communication, to processes, to networks underground, of
that Nkomati Accord. I think we only saw it as a threat and didn’t talk about it, but the
full detailed implication of it was to be felt later by the ordinary cadres of the Movement
in the underground in the front area like in Swaziland, like in Maputo. The full
implications. There were young guys here in Bushbuckridge, Tabang one of them, one
Malupia guy. They were trapped. One of them was asthmatic. He was taking some
tablets. They got finished. They had no way of communicating with Mpumalanga and
Swaziland. Nothing. Everything came dead down.
With these words of Mathews Phosa describes the effects of the Nkomati Agreement
seen from inside.
Phosa had taken his Law degree from the University of Turfloop and done his articles. He
then started a Law Firm with two friends in Nelspruit. This was in itself a huge defiance
to the Regime, since he, as a black lawyer, was not supposed to have an office in a white
area. They were violating the Group Areas Act by doing so and under constant threat.
They took up more and more political and human rights issues in their firm. This was the
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direct and visible struggle against the regime. But at the same time he started on his
underground work with the ANC. The first contacts went through Swaziland via Archie
Abrahams and then to Maputo to Cde Zuma.
It was the incident at Bushbuckridge which eventually forced Mathews to leave the
country. The straw that crushed the camel’s back. Until then he had seen his work to be
inside the country. Close to the borders with Swaziland. Close to the borders with
Mozambique and with one foot in the homeland of Kangwane.
Freddy (the name we knew him under): I managed to work closely with Enos Mabuza,
Chief Minister of the homeland of Kangwane, because I was defending them when the
Government was saying that Kangwane must be part of Swaziland in the land deal
incorporation. I was the attorney who led the resistance against the incorporation of part
of South Africa with Swaziland throughout. That mobilised people, and that created a
relationship between me as a lawyer and Mabuza.I said to Mabuza: We need to make
common cause here. It is not only about fighting for this piece of land; it is about fighting
for the whole of South Africa, to be liberated. So we need to agree that we work with the
ANC. He said: Fine, let us work with the ANC, but where is the ANC? I say, I will show
you where the ANC is. And because of his seniority we didn’t initially take him out to
Maputo. It was me and Zita (later to became chief minister of Kangwane and in the new
dispensation became the first Ambassador in Mozambique of South Africa), who then
went to see Zuma, Chris Hani, Joe Slovo, Manhla. Malume was also there.
We had a guy we used to call a Trusty Courier, Mr. Mahondela. He came to SA to the
mines, an ordinary mineworker who worked and worked himself upwards. He had shops
in Thembisa. He had shops here in Kaapmuiden. He became a successful man. He was
involved in supporting Frelimo when they were still in Tanzania. He sent them clothes,
foodstuff, mobilised Mozambican business people, sent foodstuff to Tanzania, clothes,
supported Frelimo. So he knew people like Samora’s brother, Josefate and many others.
And they knew him.
It was through him that we said: No, let us make a link, number one: with the ANC. Not
Swaziland cadres, just Mozambique. Tell them: Here is a serious issue: Land is
threatened to be incorporated into Swaziland. It must be discussed with Machel. Machel
must raise it with the OAU. We must brief Machel as much as possible about this land
issue, and brief the ANC. That is how we managed to take the issue there with the
collective agreeing. The collective was: Enos Mabuza, Zita, Manghela, myself, a chap
called Maselela. We were five conspirators in that cell. And we decided: we must brief
the ANC. This land thing is going to be fought also at the level of the liberation
movement. We must get action around it.
We first met with Josefate Machel. Josefate received us with prawns, with cashews. We
briefed them. Later, on the first trip, we briefed Frelimo, in details, everything. Same
night there was a newsbroadcast in the evening, Machel would be taking up the issue of
the Kangwane deal. It was announced on the Radio, and we knew we had been backed.
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We were very happy that we had made an impact. The ANC came to know we were
there. Machel must have told them. These guys are here.Then we had a whole visit to the
ANC. Underground. Diving and ducking. We got to know the place. We stayed at the
Rovuma Hotel. We went to a house. I can only imagine that it was somewhere in
Sommerschield, but I don’t know where. We had a very strong meeting. Zuma, Chris
Hani, Slovo, Mandla, Archie Abrahams, who is now known to be Whitehead, Mtoaleth.
And we briefed them about the issues. We had further discussions beyond the land deal,
how to resist, the whole organisational thing about how to build underground. This is
how we started to link up with the ANC very directly and that is how we got the
Kangwane government in to become very pro-ANC.
We then discussed how do we get Mabuza to meet O.R.? The meeting felt that the level
at which he is, he must meet with Oliver Tambo. And then of course it was arranged, we
must go to London. This I haven’t told anybody before. It was very important we would
cover our tracks at the time. So we connived a trip to Switzerland, Zurich, with a
footprint, Germany and then London. But the destination was London. And there was a
first meeting, I think 1982 or so where Mabuza met Oliver Tambo in London. Very
emotional meeting. I remember it very well.
I was there. There was not one meeting where I was not there. I was always there. Then
Thabo joined that meeting. For the first time, Thabo Mbeki came into that meeting. But
the foundation had been laid by the Maputo guys.
I was still inside the country. I worked with the ANC being here. I am not even in exile.
We did all these things from Nelspruit through Maputo. And we then went several times
for those types of meetings, briefing meetings.
Mathews was fully with the ANC Alliance, making speeches, setting up cells, making
network and literally turning the whole region into an ANC area with the guidance from
ANC Maputo. They changed it totally.
At the same time he was taking on some very difficult political cases. One was an ANC
cadre who was arrested, and Phosa called in the famous lawyer Bizo to assist him in the
trial. The guy got killed while in prison and the police claimed that he had hanged
himself with one of the socks that Mathews had brought to him. He insisted on having an
inquest, and the police got humiliated again and again during the trial.
That is when Mathews became a direct target of the regime.
There were many of these cases, and also cases brought to him by the South African
Council of Churches, cases of exploitation of labour, Mozambican labour and other
human rights issues.
What eventually forced him to leave the country was the Bushbuckridge case. They were
a good unit with young men. They were the link between Guebuza in Mozambique and
E. B. in Swaziland and able to send weapons, ammunition, correspondence on to the then
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PWV Region. Philip Mogale was heading the unit in which Mathews was working to link
up with the young group in Bushbuckridge. For a time it worked beautifully. The money
flew. The arms flew. Correspondence flew. Medicine flew.
Then came Nkomati, and they were stuck.
By then Mathews also worked with a captain in the South African Security, Captain
Malaza. Zuma had told him that Malaza was trusted by the ANC and passed a lot of
information on to them.
Now Bushbuckridge was burning. At the same time Mathews was deep into a trial. He
wrote a report to the ANC about the situation in Bushbuckridge without putting his own
name into it. The police had discovered that there were ANC guys hiding in
Bushbuckridge. Neither Malaza or Mathews were in a condition to go to the place. But
the guys in Bushbuckridge had to be warned before the police found out exactly where
they were. Mathews used the last straw. He telephoned one of them who was working in
Barclays Bank in Bushbuckridge and gave a coded warning for the guys to shift. They
were being monitored by a security police called Boy Machiho known to have committed
the worst atrocities.
He knew that the police was looking for the source of the telephone call in the Nelspruit
area. And one morning during the trial he found out that he had been discovered.
Freddy: The police knew. The source is me. The question was answered. That morning,
at court, I remember... Brigadier Bosman, silver grey guy, and a very notorious security,
Lochenberg, was carrying an album of so-called terrorists. They looked at me that
morning. Their looks looked different that day. I was very nervous. I was nervous,
nervous. Their presence there. I could not eat. I could not drink anything. I was dry. I was
gone.
Philip Mogale had been arrested and had broken. Exactly what he had feared most had
happened. Mathews was trying to think fast. Which road to take? Which car to use, his
own BMW so well known? He managed on that Friday to meet Malaza who told him that
there had been a fight in Bushbuckridge between the group and the police:
Freddy: They were sleeping. They killed them dead. They were not fighting. Then they
came here, on the road to Numbi Gate. There is a house there. It is a school here along
the Numbi Gate. Mohale was in there. There was another two comrades in there, Tabang
was in there, I think. They were in that house. It was a fight which lasted for hours with
the police and MK guys in there. The community, the school, everything scattered. There
was a war. Then Malupe decided, they would not capture him. He took his last pistol, last
bullet. He said to Mogale and one young student, you go out. You surrender. They
surrendered. And he shot himself with the last bullet.
But Mathews also had to meet Mabuza. Couldn’t leave without explaining to him. He had
never told Mabuza about the other work he was doing. He needed to explain to him why
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he was leaving. And they met the next morning. The police was all around them. Just
outside. He was still trying to argue with himself whether he needed to leave. He would
say this, prove that in the trial. He could testify that he was not linked to the ANC. But
Malaza had said to him:
Freddy: They are going to kill you. You are arguing that you will defend yourself in a
trial. Why they didn’t arrest you so far it is because they have decided that they are going
to kill you. You understand what I mean? There is a guy called Nofumela. It didn’t make
sense that time. He is in a hit squad. They are coming to kill you. These are the guys.
They are looking for you. They now know what you have been doing. At least from the
Bushbuckridge operation, they know. They know why you are defending ANC people in
Middleburg. It is because you are bloody involved. So they are going to kill you. They
told me there is an ANC spirit in this area. They now see you as an ANC spirit. You are
going to get killed.
Mathews took the advice. He managed to delude the police driving in a Mazda they didn't
know. He drove to the border gate with Swaziland at Matsamo. He was always in and out
there, so no problem. And obviously the border police had not been alerted. They asked
about firearms, stamped his passport. And he just left like that.
And now Mathews Phosa life in exile started. Difficult. Unacceptable at the beginning.
Freddy: I contacted one Totsi Mamela, whom I had known. Zuma happened to be
around that weekend, to see Nkosazana. She was still a doctor in Swaziland at that time.
What do we do? So I tell them what had happened. The whole story. They said: There is
no way that you go back home. You must be in Maputo by Monday morning. You leave.
You leave even from Swaziland. OK. They changed my residence. They took my car.
And on Monday... Paul Dikeledi appeared on the scene. I didn’t know him. We left.
By 8 o’clock on Monday we were at the border, Namaacha. Paul going around, buying
whiskeys, buying bread. I didn’t know why we were buying all these things on the way. I
mean ... why is this guy buying all these things. He said, no my children are there. He is
just buying... It turned out, it was difficult to find bread in Mocambique. It was luxury.
The boot was full of food. Why is that? And we went into Mozambique. We arrived at
this place, Enos’ place. All people were speaking in Portuguese. I am beginning to feel
out of place now. The toilet is not working. There is water in a bucket in the toilet. What
is going on? I mean, it is just exile. There is people coming there in a van, with food. Ya,
your name is Freddy now. You are being given this name by Sue Rabkin. I had known at
the time on the other side. You are Freddy from now onwards.
And they are bringing food. What food is that? Bring food for me? What type of life is
this? Distribution of food? What is this? The next thing, Zuma came. You must leave that
place. You must go and stay with Rob Davies. Who is Rob Davies? This is English
people. What? When is what going to happen? I have never been so isolated in my life. I
began to feel the harsh impact of being in exile.
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I sat there for six months, I think, not understanding, what is it? Vusi Tswala would come
some times and fetch me. And we would go to Sue’s flat and eat some meat in the
evening and talk... But my mind was not in it. I began to lose weight, missing my
children. It was just something very different, completely different, sitting there alone.
And you begin to develop more hatred for them in that process. Even more hatred.
And to communicate with my wife was difficult. You booked a call at 9 in the morning.
It came in at four in the evening. You had to stay in that house and wait for the call. It
was difficult. Maputo had no communication. Nothing.
... Life was miserable.
Then there was a debate about Kabwe Conference. These guys, we come from UDF, we
belong to the UDF, Black and white leadership, they are still arguing about whether or
not the whites must be in the NEC. That was what we were arguing about. What are they
talking about? I don’t understand them. The meetings in Maputo preparing for the
Conference.
Those were the arguments. ‘We are against Whites coming to the NEC.’ What the hell
are you talking about? We already have... I mean... Andrew Borraine, there are many,
Boesak, what is this story about these guys here... I didn’t understand the debate. Then on
the Eve of the Conference, there we go. I am flown to Lusaka.
ANC’ Second National Consultative Conference in Kabwe, Zambia, took place in June
1985 after which the NEC issued a statement: ‘Make apartheid unworkable. Make the
country ungovernable.’ Chris Hani received the highest number of votes to the NEC, and
number two was John Nkadimeng whose son had just been killed in a car bomb in
Botswana some few weeks earlier.
For the first time other than Blacks were allowed into the NEC which is what Freddy
founds stupid to even discuss. It was a break through not accepted before. Joe Slovo, Mac
Maharaj, Aziz Pahad, Reginald September and James Stuart are thus elected to the
highest organ of the ANC, and Ronnie Kasrils is opted into the NEC as well. It is at this
conference that the question about ‘soft target’ is coming up and it becomes accepted that
civil target can become necessary although the ANC will avoid it where possible. And it
is also at this Confernece that it is decided to open up talks with some of South Africans’
most progressive business, the socalled talks about talks.
Mathews didn’t go to Lusaka because of the Kabwe Conference, but because Oliver
Tambo wanted to meet with him.
Freddy: They say I must meet with Oliver Tambo. I must talk about the future. It was
vague. It was confusing. I arrived there. They said, you are going to stay at Kaunda
Square. I thought it was one of the best places in Lusaka, Kaunda Square. I was stuck in
this squatter camp, a real squatter camp. With toilets struggling to flush. Smell of dirt all
over. Flies all over. Real squatter, ‘Stay in that house’. And...with many comrades... and
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then later, Zuma came to Lusaka. No you cannot stay there. He removed me. Took me to
Decamore Motel . I must wait there. More isolated. You only saw an ANC comrade
when they came. Like Mkosi would come in the evening. We would go and have a drink.
During the day you are alone. You walk up and down there. You end up falling in love
with the waiters and the waitresses with your eyes. I mean, just alone there. Then the
Zambian squad were staying there. So it was nice to look at the squad. We would eat
breakfast together. The food was tasteless. The Zambian egg, it doesn’t have a yellow
yoke, some half yellow. (laughs) I had difficulties eating that egg as well (laughs). Then I
became Paul Nkosi. No longer Freddy. I was Nkosi. I was Nkosi. My name is changing
from one place to the other. Then I hang around and around, life ... boring as it is.
Everything is underground, and you do don’t know what is going on. People are
whispering... body language. You don’t understand whether they trust you or they don’t
trust you. It is very strange… to integrate into the network of the liberation leaders.You
don’t know where you are. You have not learned those things, that everything is
conspiracy, high conspiracy.
Mathews was looking forward to meeting Oliver Tambo again. O.R. was upset and angry
that he had been ‘burned out’. Why was he not protected when he was inside where he
was so much more useful than outside taking charge of the whole operation from there.
And what was going to happen to Mabuza now, would he be banned as well? And the
other guys? Mathews should never have been involved with military things and should
never have been overused. Why was that necessary?
O.R. suggested that Mathews open a law firm.
Freddy: I said: I am sorry, Mr. President. I have a law firm at home. I don’t want a
second one. The people that I left at home don’t expect me to have a second law firm.
They expect me to fight. I want to fight. I want to be engaged in the struggle full time.
And that is how it was decided that Mathews go for leadership training in the GDR. In
Berlin to be more exact. He went there together with a young and pregnant woman Jean
Delaray from home. Her legend was that she had gone overseas for medical treatment
and returned home after the termination of the course. Just the two of them in a class.
Highly specialised training. On one side very intellectual, political. On another side they
learned the use of all kinds of weapons, not only the mechanical thing, but the chemical
composition of what was used. And they learned all about Intelligence and Counter
Intelligence. Different types of experts would come and give lectures to the class, and
never, never was anybody else invited to sit with the two pupils. It lasted about four
months.
Freddy was now fully equipped to go back to Maputo where he started working with
Keith Mokoape who later became head of Military Intelligence in the ANC.
In a unit consisting of the two of them plus Peter Gumede, who was later killed by a
landmine in Zimbabwe a few months before the unbanning of the ANC and only two
months after having left Mozambique, they had to monitor the border. Freddy’s unit had
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its base in Maputo, and they would service the units along the border who would get it
further into the country, to Gauteng and other areas. Leaflets, badges, Sechabas,
Msebenzies, guns. Everything went in.
The golden rule before Nkomati had been to use only the Swazi border, but now after
Nkomati they were confronting the enemy directly at the border with South Africa.
Freddy: That was my initial baptism by fire in the bush. Right there. At the cold face of
it. South African soldiers were milling all over the borders. There were landmines there.
Exploding every day. It was very bad. There was a lot of fighting going on that time. And
we were putting people through with arms into the country. Then the tension heightened.
They arrested some of them. They knew they were being pushed by us. Arms, personnel,
everything, food, clothes, everything was going in.
There was a military camp of Frelimo there. At Macuacua. Ya. They were a support for
us. They gave us arroz , very nice, capenta and arroz cooked by the soldiers, and we
began to see people who had been thrown out (of South Africa) in their hundreds at that
camp and how they were received there, carried in.
That time South Africa was burning. It was ungovernable. 1985-86.
Ya. They have been thrown out. They used that military camp there, to receive them.
Take them to Maputo. We used it to send clothes back to their parents. Back into the
country. People received food, but some of them left wives, parents. No food. Nothing.
We received them. To give them food. All the white cheese from Norway. Give them
clothes. Mpando from Maputo. It all went back inside the country to feed the people.
They were part of our unit. (laughs). Seriously. We had to feed the people in there. We
had to dress them.
Then they put the razor wires. Not only around the Kruger National Park, but also the
corner between Swaziland and the Park, the mountain, which is the area where Freddy
and his unit was operating. They put up the razor wires to stop them. That was the only
way they could stop the front that Freddy’s group had set up. They claimed that the wires
were poisoned, and it was important for Freddy to find out whether this was true.
They worked closely with an old man there, Nkala. He was a party secretary of Frelimo
on the Mozambican side. The old man, Nkala, had warned them against his own son.
They must not trust him. He approached them and wanted to work for them, but because
of the warning from his own father, they decided to give him a test case. They discussed
it at length and decided to give him the job of cutting the razor wire. They left him at the
border to do the job, and came back later to fetch him. The poor boy was bleeding. But
they got their wire and could send it off to Lusaka for testing.
Freddy: This razor blade was very efficient. It really cut you. We began to sabotage it.
Break the blue lights. It cost them more than 6 million one time to repair. We sabotaged
the wire. Deliberately. We would just rubbish it. And it was big stories in the press: lines
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damaged. We knew. We harassed them too. And then we began to dig holes under that
fence. We would dig holes, and then things would begin to go in there. They had
difficulties. They were hit. It was very difficult for them. We always responded with
clamp downs.
Freddy and his unit were working in the middle of the Mozambican war context. The
border area, in fact the whole stretch between Maputo and Namaacha was a very hot area,
not accessible to other groups and no go area for any ordinary citizen. The population
suffered one beastly Renamo attack after the other and was massacred. These years and
some of the years to come showed the worst part of the war.
Freddy: The fact of the matter is they accused Samora of supporting the African
National Congress. That is the Centre of the matter. And they began not to trust him
about the Nkomati Accord. Of course they were not honest about it. They intensified the
armed struggle against Frelimo. We had to duck and dive there to survive every day. We
were on the move every day. I don’t know how we were not killed. I mean, one day we
escaped one ambush. People were fainting with shock. We had to carry them. We had to
carry corpses one day, with Peter Gumede in that red van of ours.
We were doing all these things together with the Mozambicans. There was this day when
we were going down to the border. We see one of these yellow road trucks is lying on the
side, and people are standing there. We were carrying a lot of people this time in the van.
And when we stopped, you can hear shooting, and all of a sudden it keeps quiet. We
looked to stop there, at the control. People lying there dead. I saw one woman. She
couldn’t hear. She couldn’t see. She was shocked like that. And shooting boom, boom,
out in the bush there. And we said: what do we do? The distance between there and
Maputo is the same distance as between there and Namaacha where are we going to? We
carried the corpses to Namaacha. That day the ANC led the convoy, AKs facing all over
like that. We went to the border and did our job after that.
There on the border they are also responsible for servicing Swaziland, ensuring that they
had everything they required, political, military is done. Movement of personnel. Every
day they were in touch with Vusi Mabindela (known as Socks and in the new
Dispenation head of NIA).
With Nkomati Swaziland became the haven to which hundreds and hundreds of ANC
fighters jumped instead of being put on the aeroplane to Tanzania. Many got caught. The
important ones delivered to the South Africans, others sent to the same Tanzania they
thought they had managed to avoid, others got killed.
Swaziland’s relation to Frelimo nearly started on a bad footing. Before Mozambican
Independence, during the transition period, there was a feud between Swaziland and
Mozambique.
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Mariano Matsinha, the Minister of Interior during the Nkomati Accord tells:
Tinham boa compreensão. É um pequeno pais muito ligado a Africa do Sul. Frelimo
tinha problemas com o velho Sobuza. Antes do Acordo de Lusaka ele queria um acordo
com os Portugueses para ceder essa parte de Cathembe, essa zona toda (South of
Maputo). Mas uns ministros jovens swazis é que dissuadiram o velho Sobuza a andar a
fazer isso. Que deixasse a Frelimo negociar com os Portugueses e a Swazilandia a apoiar
a Frelimo, e nunca fazer um acordo com os Portugueses contra Frelimo. Porque ia fazer
problemas no futuro. E conseguiram. Iam fazer isso. Frelimo negociava com os
Portugueses. Mas a ideia deles era de aproveitar dessa ocasião para ficar com essa parte
de Mocambique que ele pensava pertencia a Swazilandia... Mas felizmente isso nao
aconteceu, e eu lembro-me que antes da Independencia, quando ainda tinhamos o
governo de transicão, Swazilandia forneceu algum cereal, algum milho, porque
Moçambique estava a sofrer de fome, de seca. Veio um ministro com toneladas de milho
para Moçambique.
So thanks to some young Swazis advisors to the King, the conflict was solved before it
erupted.
Swaziland’s significance to the ANC did not start with Nkomati.
Mozambique was chosen as the rear for Swaziland. The agreement with the Mozambican
authorities was not to use the direct border with South Africa, but to function through
Swaziland. That is why Mozambique was such a successful place even when both
Lesotho and Botswana had to close down.
Before 1976 there were already people like Zuma, Thabo, Albert Dlomo, Lennox living
in Swaziland. As we have seen many young people from the black universities fleeing
from South Africa got to Swaziland. From Fort Hare, Turfloop, University of Venda.
They needed political education. They came out, got their training, got their political
education and weres infiltrated back to the country.
Also Nkosasana Zuma, then Dlamini, had heeded the call of the old King Sobuza to come
back to Swaziland after her training as a medical doctor.
The relationship between Swaziland and the ANC was without many problems during the
first years after the Soweto uprising. Mainly because of the Ruler His Majesty King
Sobuza. It became a safe haven for many South Africans who left the country as we have
heard in previous accounts. As soon as they had found the ANC, they were looked after.
At that time Stan Mabizela was the representative who looked into the matters of the
ANC while he still functioned as a teacher in a Swazi school.
The long term students would be received as refugees and one of the houses set up to
receive them was EFESES House located between Manzini and Mbabane managed by a
Danish couple, Uffe and Jette Hansen and funded by the World University Service who
was also the institution that gave scholarship to the refugees and to their children.
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But Swaziland became a complicated area to operate from. Were the Swazis with the
Boers or were they with the ANC? And what were the inner power struggles in that
country? The people, the intellectuals, and the foreigners living there learned to
manipulate within the different powers and learned never to trust the police and the
immigration officers. Here like in Mozambique the ANC relied heavily on the solidarity
and help from these constant supporters of the liberation struggle.
One of the places where progressive South Africans gathered was the University of
Swaziland. John Daniel was a lecturer at the University. He had left South Africa in
1968. Had been a president of NUSAS and felt that there was nothing useful he could do
politically inside the country. After some years of studying in the USA he arrived back in
Swaziland in 1974 just after the coup in Portugal and stayed there until he was deported
in 1985, one of the victims of the post Nkomati era.
One of the consequences of Mozambique’s Independence and the coming of these guys
from the Soweto generation was that you started getting a much more politicised element
active on campus. John Daniel remembers being asked to speak at a function to mark the
solidarity with the students of the University of Zambia who had been expelled and some
of the foreigners had been arrested because they were protesting against a government
decision to recognise UNITA as the legitimate liberation movement in Angola. The
students called a meeting in Swaziland to protest against the Zambian government’s
decision. Now, this was unheard of a few years before. Tokyo Sexwale was the one who
organised the meeting in the name of some student group. John Daniel tellss:
I was one of the speakers. I was being quite careful about what I said, and he (Tokyo) was
really pushing me from the audience. I was being quite diplomatic, and at the end he
came up to me and said: ‘I am a communist, and I would have said straight out this that
that.’ And within two or three weeks he had gone. Disappeared for training. He was a
second or a third year student. And there were others that disappeared. From one day to
the next. That was the beginning.
The University ran what was called the 10% foreign students quota. 10% could be
foreign. Not all South Africans. Also Rhodesians/Zimbabweans. Ugandans from Amin’s
time. These were very politically sharp and active. They were easily voted on the SRC.
People like Albie Sachs were frequent visitors to the University and spoke publicly. It
would also have links to other progressive universities, and the work that Rob Davies,
Dan O’Mara and Sipho Dlamini were doing at the Eduardo Mondlane University in
Maputo on the different political movements in South Africa was a joint venture with
John Daniel’s.
It was an active campus and an active recruiting ground. Like Tokyo other students
would disappear and go for training. There was also a big Dutch community, because of a
cooperation with Dutch Universities in a NUFFIC project, Netherlands University Funds
for International Cooperation, which would every year bring 5 or 6 Dutch academics with
their families. A number of these became strong supporters of the liberation struggle.
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So the campus was something of a hotbed in the context of Swaziland.
The Nkomati agreement in Mozambique revealed something that nobody had been aware
of, namely that in February 1981 the South African Regime had struck a secret deal with
the Swazi Government which gave the South African police and military full right to go
in at any time and act against the ANC. It was when the South Africnas wanted a similar
deal with Frelimo that it became known. However, Frelimo was very much aware that
they were not going to sign a blank check like that. One reason why it had been so secret
was probably that the deal was struck with the Swazi government, unknown to King
Sobuza, staunch supporter and co-funder of the ANC. And the reason why it later became
known was exactly that since the very progressive and socialist Frelimo could sign a deal
with the Apartheid regime, then Swazis could also admit to having done so.
Stanley Mabizela was the first person to be deported from Swaziland after they signed the
security pact in 1982. He went to Lusaka within weeks although it was only realised later
that he was a victim of this agreement. Quite interesting how the South Africans worked.
They would present the Swazis with this list of names of people they wanted out. They
would say, if you don’t get them out, we will just kill them. So they would say to Stanley:
We have been informed—they didn’t say it in terms of an arrangement—that your life is
in danger, we cannot guarantee your safety. He was the first one to go, and after that
Moses Mabhida began acting as the representative and then John Nkadimeng, as we have
heard earlier. But from now on the ANC cadres who were working in Swaziland kept
very much underground. The most common arrangement was that the comrades went in
and out from Mozambique. For those who worked there permanently life was tough, a
life of diving and ducking, and constantly with the fear of getting assassinated or caught
and tortured.
Those of us who were ‘surfing’ to Swaziland met these people in brief moments. Often
we hardly saw who they were. We arrived, had some agreed passwords. We left the car
full of our ‘goodies’ whether books, magazines, pamphlets or weapon. Somebody would
take the car and after waiting in a take away or a bar we would get the car back, empty.
Some few times when there were important matters to discuss we stayed over and
discussed. But rarely. We never knew when our car would get stopped by the Swazi
police. When there would be an arms control.
Paul or Sidney Moodley had left the country like so many others, had received miitary
training both in Angola and a specialised course in the GDR, had gone back to Angola
from where he was moved to join the Political Mission of the ANC in Swaziland. The
head of the Political Mission at that time was Kuzwayo. Some of the other comrades
were Leonard, Ray and her husband Ivan, and Cde Kuzwayo’s wife and some other
people. E.B. came later. The political mission in Swaziland was responsible for Urban
Areas in Natal, especially Durban, and Urban areas in the North. Part of their duty was to
take political material into the country, and the ANC had built up a good network of
expatriates living in Swaziland to help in this process.
Paul got arrested in 1984.
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What happened is that I go to Mozambique for debriefings and briefings and get
information for the cadres in Swaziland. When I came back to Swaziland, one of our
vehicles overturned near the border area. When I tried to retrieve the vehicle, I got
arrested by the Swazi police. And of course the border is heavily controlled because of
the Nkomati Accord. They knew that because the Accord was signed a lot of the
comrades would want to come back into the country, so they had sealed off the border,
and they had lots of policemen, both Swazi and South African police. We were arrested.
We were detained for a long period of time in single cells. We were interrogated by both
Swazi and South African police. The interrogations took place at some army camp, I
think. I am not sure where, because we were blindfolded for the duration of that
interrogation period. And when the movement heard about what was happening, because
they were violating the law, the movement instructed the Swazi government to release us
from prison and to stop the interrogation. The Swazis, especially the Swazi police worked
very closely with the South Africans.
The person responsible first for detaining us then interrogating us, and causing such grief
to fellows, was the chief of the security police. Then a decision was taken to liquidate
him, which was subsequently done.
From Swaziland we were then deported to Tanzania.
These are still very tough memories for Paul. His voice, his face indicates the pain. The
torture must have been severe. He did not know the name of the commander, or did not
want to recall those terrible moments.
After the 82 agreement it became very easy for the Boers to move in. In terms of the
Security Pact, the South Africans were also given free access to the country so that they
could go across the borders at will. They even had access to the trials in Swaziland.
Craig Williamson told the TRC under oath that helicopters would frequently come down
just for a few hours to police HQ to discuss the latest, or to inform the Swazis that the
South Africans were there to mount an operation either in Swaziland or through
Swaziland to Maputo.
John Daniel is trying to give background about where and who tortured Paul
If you travel from Manzini to Mbabane you come to a small hill off Mbabane. You turn
off that hill into a dirt road which was called the Tea road because it took you to the top
of the ridge where there were these Teas Estates. The South Africans took over a building
there. They constructed a facility there with a helicopter pad where they could land
whereby—most of the tortures and interrogations were done by the Swazi Police—but
there was a mirror behind, and the South Africans would sit, watch and give instructions,
and also they had earphones and informed them: Ask them this, ask them that.
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It could well be that Paul Moodley was tortured by a Swazi. It was probably at this
facility. The chief of police in 1983-4 was a man called Majaji Simelani. Majaji had
come to power after Sobuza died, and there were the struggles within the palace, where
the legitimate Queen Regent who was Sobuza’s senior wife, was overthrown in a Palace
Coup by another line within the royal family led by prince Mfana Sibili and Sibili
appointed this Majaji Simelani Chief of Police. He was assassinated. There were two
possibilities. One was that he was hit by the ANC. There was an MK operation. The other
possibility was that it was part of the palace struggle. Very shortly thereafter, Mfana
Sibili and his crew were overthrown, and the Swazi police identified a man by the name
of A.B. Soli Gcobo who was an ANC cadret. It was not Majaji Simelani. It was a man
called Shiba. Shiba was the interrogator, and he was killed. There was one view that
Majaji Simelani had killed him because he was a rival. The other was that the ANC had
assassinated him, and they had good grounds to do so. He seemed to have had one
mission in life: finish the ANC. They (the Swazi police) in turn killed this Gcobo a young
man of 21, an ANC cadre in Manzini.
When the old King Sobuza died in 1983 there were no more limitations in their crack
down on the liberation movement.
In that same year (20th of May) was the spectacular bomb attack of Church Street at the
entrance to the South African Air Force Headquarters opposite the House of the Military
Intelligence by Special Ops also planned from Mozambique. John Daniels explains:
What de Kock told us from prison was that he was still in Koevoet at the time of
the Church Street bomb and said: One of the consequences of the Church
Street bomb was a realisation at the security level that the ANC had now
developed a much more serious capacity to pull on major operations, and that
Security must now get into much more serious counter-revolutionary
assassinations.
They had got the perfect man for the job assassinating over there. They pulled
him out of Koevoet and placed him at Vlakplaas. Although he wasn’t a
commander at the time. The commander was Dirk Coetzee. de Kock was
number two.
They put him on the Eastern Front, Mozambique and Swaziland and he
became a very serious threat moving in and out.
He is withdrawn from Namibia a few weeks after the Church Street bomb
(20.5.83). His first operation was the assassination of Guebuza’s brother,
Simelani (?) Nyanda (p ), who was also a senior commander, in fact probably
more senior than the brother. In all de Kock was doing 13 or 14 operations in
Swaziland.
One of them is the following:
Paul Dikeledi had to leave for Swaziland after Nkomati. He had always been in and out,
but from now on he had to be based there. Unlike most of the men who left their wives
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behind, Carla (p.) decided to follow him into Swaziland with their children and climbed
the fence in 1984. Most people know the problems of the male comrades in their ducking
and diving, but few people know the problems the families went through:
She crossed the fence into Swaziland in 1984, April. September (who will be introduced
later) was abducted on the 15th of August 1984. Everybody was nervous, although
September had always been a very reliable comrade. The next night the Natal Machinery
was infiltrated into the country according to plans. Only one came out of it alive. He was
shot in the leg, caught, and then sentenced to prison spell at Robben Island. Had
September talked? Could there be a connection?
The next day the South African Death Squad raided her house. Eugene de Kock was part
of it. She relates:
Carla: In the morning I woke up, took the kids to get the bus to go to crèche. Came back.
And I just said to Paul: ‘Paul, I think you must be careful… you know September has
been taken by the Boers. And there you are. You think, no, he is not going to say
anything. . But listen, you trust so much in this people, because you have been together
for so long and you know each other. And Paul left. It was about ten o’clock in the
morning. I was just getting ready. I had finished dressing up. I was going to go for my
driving lesson. And as I still sit in the bedroom, I hear these two cars speeding into the
yard, and these eight doors... I think they opened the doors at the same time, and they
closed them also at the same time. It was one Golf. Another one was a Four by Four. And
because my door wasn’t locked, they just walked in. I just thank god that as I said, I am
not a scared person, I am not a person that just panic. It takes me days to realise the
danger I am in. They put a gun on my head, and he (de Kock) said: Don’t scream. I said: I
am not going to scream. Why should I scream? They asked: where is Paul? I said: He
left. And they said: Where to? And I said: I don’t know. He said: The children? What
came into my mind at that time, I said: They left with Mummy. Each of the men, all
Boers, just went to the bedroom, searching and searching. de Kock is the one that stayed
with me. He put a gun on my head.
Then they pushed me into the bedroom, and they turned my room upside down. All the
other rooms. They didn’t find anything. They just took my album. My family album. The
TV. They took some other things, the carpet and things like that. They tied my mouth, my
eyes, my hands. They put me inside the toilet. They locked it. They even took the
mattress from the bed and put it there, like if you are tired you sleep... And I just heard
the cars pulling out. One of them said to me: We are going to fetch the kids. That gave
me such a strength. As soon as they left, I managed... because what they had tied my
hands with, was the rope from the heater. It was wintertime, we had the heat on. Then
they cut off the rope and they tied my hands. I tried, and I tried, and I tried, and I
managed to free myself, and I just said: but my children. My head was going: my kids,
my kids, my kids. And I just turned. I was holding to the hand basin, and I pulled the
hand basin. The hand basin came out I even cut myself here with the hand basin (shows a
scar she has still got). It broke and the water was like hot water pouring. And I turned to
the door. And I hold to the handle of the door. And I pushed it, and I pushed it. And it
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came out. And I used the handle to break the door. I broke the door and I got out. And I
got out of that house.
I was running. I ran, I ran, I ran, I ran to Jabu’s house because it was some few houses
ahead. And I just said to his wife: Sibue, the Boers were just in my house. Please, can you
just go to the school and get my kids. And please, try to trace Paul, where ever he is, he
must not get to the house. And I went to the bush. I could see the cars passing. I was like
sitting in the bush, and I could see the cars passing. I was waiting.
I walked back, approaching Sibue’s house. It’s like God sent someone. I was approaching
the house, and she was also looking for me in the bush, and we met. And the only thing I
asked was: are the kids all right?. And she said: The kids are safe at home. I just grabbed
her and I cried, you know like... and I asked her, what about Paul? And she said, I have
already sent a message. He knows what has happened. He hasn’t come to the house, but
he is fine. And after that, it was like a big relief like: my kids are safe, Paul is safe, and I
went to Sibue’s house. And from then Paul came in the evening, picked me up and the
kids, and took us to a safe place.
I was numb for three days. Any car that would come into the yard of the house where I
was... The moment I heard the doors, the closing of the doors, I would panic. You know
the only thing that used to calm me down was Cape Valvet. I would drink Cape Valvet a
whole bottle, and nothing happened. I wouldn’t be drunk, but it relaxed me. What Paul
did, he said I will take you back to Mozambique. And I went back to Mozambique.
Paul came back to Swaziland. He could not stay with me.
She left Swaziland and went back to Maputo. Paul continued in Swaziland with small
visits to Mozambique until the day he landed in Matsapa airport together with Cassius
Make from the NEC who had previously been head of Ordnance. They got in a car, were
ambushed on the way and assassinated in February of 87.
Eugene de Kock started infiltrating the Eastern Front from 1983 and in the time after
Nkomati. This was also the days of Craig Williamson, and John Daniel tells how he got
himself involved in the whole scandal of the IUEF .A Swede that he knew from his
NUSAS days, Gunnar Erichson, had set up this International University and Education
Fond. He could no longer go to South Africa but visited John many times in Swaziland.
And they had set up EFESAS House (see above) together with WUS: But after NUSAS
had been declared an ‘affected’ organisation it could no longer receive foreign funding in
South Africa, so Erik told John to set up a bank account in Swaziland. Then they were
going to channel the money through him. They would arrange some code, and a person
would then take the money to the different organisations inside South Africa.
Fine. John did what he was asked to do. He was then asked to set up a Committee of
reliable people like Mabizela and himself, plus somebody from the SACC so that they
could create a Front with an office which provided scholarships but also sent money to
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the MK. Okay. They hired a person called Filicia Forest who seemed perfect for the job.
And indeed she ran the EFESAS office until she too was deported in 1985.
John Daniel: I set up the bank account. The money arrived. I was told that ‘the man from
the mountain’ was going to collect it early June or late May of 1976. The amount was
about 30.000 R. A lot of money in those days. And who arrived as ‘the man from the
mountains’, Craig Williamson! I was friendly with Enos, Duncan Enos. He had been my
vice-president when I was the president in NUSAS, and I used to see Duncan on my
visits to England, and Duncan always used to say that Williamson was an informer
‘Watch out for him’. So when he arrived the first time, I was a little shocked. He said he
had come for the money, and I said, it hasn’t arrived. He said, it must have arrived
otherwise why am I here?I mumbled something. He got very angry and left. But I wrote
to Lars Gunnar and said: ‘Listen. And I told him. I said: Is he the man? Must I give him
the money?’ ‘He is absolutely 100%. He is our man. Give him the money,’ was the
answer. The next time he came I gave him the money and the next time and the next time.
On one occasion he sent somebody else called Zak Edward who turned out also to be a
captain of the security police. Years later we discovered he was a security police in Port
Elizabeth.
They had set up a whole network. The money was going to projects in the Northern
Transvaal and in the Eastern Cape funding Steve Biko in the Eastern Cape and Biko’s
girlfriend, Mamphele Ramphele who later became the head of the UCT and is now
working for the World Bank. What a route. But she had been banished to the Northern
Transvaal. So the money went there, routed through an organisation called EDA
(Environmental Development Agency) which was run by a woman by a funny name who
turned out to be Williamson’s sister. So he had the whole thing lined up. Presumably
most of the money was getting through, otherwise it would have undermined the
credibility of the whole arrangements. And then he suddenly left, probably fleeing from
the country and then reappearing in Geneva working for IUEF. The money stopped
coming because obviously there was nobody to fetch it. So that phase of the project
ended.
And with bitterness John Daniel ends:
In a sense, he had infiltrated me, I can say.
To John Daniel it is amazing that as much happened in Swaziland as what happened.
Because clearly, there was a very heavy degree of surveillance and infiltration from both
the Swazi as the South African Security Police.
Towards the end of 84, one person summoned John, he was the minister of foreign affairs
and also the chairman of the University Council, and told him that he was deported. ‘We
are now moving against the infrastructure of support of the terrorists. You who provide
safe houses, who let people sleep in your house, who store weapons, put out propaganda.
We are targeting people like you now.’ John was given three weeks to leave. He was a
dean at the time. Quite a senior academic. He was the only academic lecturer to be
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deported, but they also expelled 21 South African students from the University by taking
their residence permit. People like Gavin Macfadon. Most of them subsequently left and
went to Lesotho.
As we have heard, Freddy was trusted with many things. The work on the border was one
of them.
Another one was to find out about informers.
So things were boiling and cooking that way. In that context, people like Cassius Make
dies in Swaziland coming from Maputo and Paul Dikeledi dies.
It was a period where there were so many informers
And we were the ones who were arresting them.‘We got instructions: Go and fetch so and
so.’ And we arrested them. We would have spies around them [laughs] put girls around
them too. They love girls and they love liqueur. We give them what they want. And we
follow them up. I was working with AB Chicane. We called him Isko at the time. Frank
Chicane’s brother. Isko was more focused on security. I was dealing with the political
leadership on the ground.
One method of catching them was to set them up.
In a previous chapter Freddy talked about Boy Nkala, whose father had told them not to
trust him and who was asked to cut a wire from the electric fence. He could have become
very useful if the father happened not to be right. So they made another testing of him.
They sent him home and told him to set up bases in Witbank where he knew the set up.
He was told that they wanted to send cadres there and weapon and he must organise safe
houses and network for them. They wanted to see what he would do, because this wass
obviously exactly the role the enemy wanted him to be given if he was a South African
spy. After seven days only he telephoned: Send the arms. We must kill these white people,
ne. Freddy was immediately certain that this guy didn't know the ANC or he wouldn't
have said:. Let us kill these white people
The test was working out for them. They knew that there was something wrong with this
guy, but they phoned him and asked him to come to Maputo. This time he came in a
white combi with a South African passport. They knew that Boy Nkala had been
convicted of robberies. They had established all these things because his father had given
leads. Impossible to get that passport with criminal conviction, so who ever gave him
underestimated that Freddy and his comrades knew the law.
They checked the combi. It was ready made with secret places for hiding things. That too
was a mistake, because it is the comrades who were supposed to make those things. He
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already came with them made. Freddy told him that they had put arms in the car, and that
he must open it when he was at home. He must have been very angry when at home he
realised that they have looked through his spying game.
Freddy ends his amusing story with a small passage which made more fear run down my
spine than the story in it self:
His father was right to say to us: Here is my son. I don’t trust him. The old man was
right. He doesn’t trust his son. There was something wrong with his son.
I couldn’t help putting myself in the father’s position. Would I have denounced my son?
What a horrible thought. And I am sure Boy Nkala and his father were not a unique case.
The choice between the Movement, the cause, and your own blood.
The problem was that you had to protect yourself and find the informers before they did
any harm. But all was based on allegations. And the other side of the coin was that it was
so easy to make allegations against somebody you didn't like. It was a vicious, vicious
time. And very damaging for the trust in the ANC community.
It was reported to Freddy and his group by a sympathiser, Lizie, living in Swaziland, that
there was a guy selling mandrax by the name of Kumalo. He had been used to infiltrate
the Movement to check things. Freddy was interested in getting to know this guy and
they invented a story about wanting to buy mandrax from him. So he came to Maputo.
Freddy, George, Isko, Raymond invited him dressed up with dark glasses and with new
names. They had to find out what damage he had done to the Movement and check what
exactly he was doing. The story was that there was a Mozambican called Rápido who
stole money from Immigration. A lot of dollars, and went to South Africa and joined the
Renamo. And Kumalo was working with Rápido against Frelimo and against the ANC.
So also Frelimo would be interested in Kumalo.
The meeting place was the restaurant Macaneta at FACIM. He was driving a lovely Audi,
the like that had not been seen in Maputo for a long time. They had a draught of
Laurentina and Freddy suggested that they go and see the old man now. They went to one
of ANC's secret houses on Eduardo Mondlane Avenue. The comrades were waiting
inside. They went up the stairs, knocked at the door. Raymond opened the door and
Kumalo walked in. Raymond pulled his AK.What happened to the guy? He was smelling
all over in a second. He got a fright of his life. They kept him there. On the fourth day
they said: this guy is innocent. He is totally innocent. He must go home. He must be left
to go home.
Fortunately they discovered in time.
And then there were the cases of those who just couldn’t be working with the enemy.
You knew them so well. You trusted them so much.
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This was the case with ‘Uncle’. He is known in the ANC as Uncle. Very respected. many
leaders of the ANC were trained by him in the camps. But question marks were raised
around him. So Freddy and his group had to find out what was the truth about these
rumours. It was a Mozambican guy who was telling them that Uncle was dealing with the
South Africans. He didn’t know his name, but he knew what the guy looked like. So they
wanted him to identify whether it was Uncle. They went to a restaurant, where Uncle was
eating. As they walk in he says to this guy ‘Como está?’ They know one another. The
story is true. Uncle is the person who he was working with the South Africans.
Everybody is shocked. Uncle. Can’t be true. Uncle. No. Half of Maputo was trained by
Uncle in the camps. They looked up to him as a leader.
They called Zuma and asked him to fly to Maputo. When he heard the story he said: No,
you do nothing. Let him go to Swaziland, and let us check, who he sees in Swaziland.
Vusi Mazimbela (Socks) then head of Intelligence in Swaziland (p. ) was angry that they
sent him if he was working with the other side. But after three weeks where Uncle was
constantly followed it was clear. He saw the wrong people. He was working for the
enemy.
Now that is one guy who was physically arrested. He resisted. So they put him in the boot
of a car and drove him to Namaacha, then forced him to cross the border. And he arrived
in Maputo arrested. He knew he was arrested. Stayed in the flat where Nkele and Master
used to stay. And Isco (Chikane) had to say: Uncle, you are no longer a commander. You
are stripped of all your titles. You are an ordinary prisoner. They bought him an air
ticket to Lusaka. The whole of Lusaka was gripped in shock. A collective shock.
Freddy can go on for hours about the different cases. Rabbit and Fear. T. Z., Ralph and
Jessica. There was no end to the names. And no end to the terrible killings they had been
causing by denouncing their comrades, dates, activities, venues. Freddy also knows about
September whom we have mentioned several times:
Freddy: The September one. I had just arrived. I saw September when I arrived from
home I actually helped him to pay his Lobola. He was still a comrade. We didn’t know
what was going on. From that time, from September, you know, things went bad.
He knew a lot of things.
The betrayal of September hit the Mozambican comrades very seriously because he knew
everything, everybody, every plan. There are speculations as to whether Glory Sedibe,
which was his real name, was working with the Boers already for some time, or whether
he turned over to the South Africans after having been caught and only then became an
Askari. It is most likely to be the latter, and as we heard from Willie Williams the ANC
security knew that he was a very wanted man on the South African hit list. His wife is
going to fill us in on some of the details of their lives and first of all give us an idea about
how you live on when you realise that your husband is a traitor and therefore killing
crowds of those who used to be your friends. And how you cope with the fact that your
previous friends turn the back on you. Do you behave like Boy Nkala’s father or do you
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stay side by side with him? Each case is different. Here is Conceição Frós Sedibe’s
choice:
Conceição was an orphan in a catholic boarding school where the Mozambican mother,
Bea also had her children study. Bea adopted Conceicao and when in 1979 she was 16
years old and had passed her 6th grade and there was no 7th grade at the school, she came
to live with her new mother in Maputo. Bea had an ANC partner, Mantcheka who was
one of the first comrades to arrive in the country. Mantcheka worked very closely with
another ANC comrade, September, who often came to work at the house, and a
relationship between the two young ones developed. In 1982 he moved in with the rest of
the family. Conceicao and September decided to get formally married, and had planned
the date and started on the wedding preparations, when Nkomati came and September
had to leave the country. First to Lusaka and then back to Swaziland.
Conceicao was working for DINAGECA (Direcção Nacional de Geografia e Cadástro)
and travelled to Swaziland on long weekends or holidays. She thought it was quite easy
to get there, although it took the greater part of a day to travel But the staying with
September was difficult, sometimes he lived with a friend, sometimes they lived with
Ivan and the other comrades, but it was a hide-and-seek game.
Again they started planning the wedding. Bought rings, settled for the place. Now for
September 1986. But again it fell through, because he was caught in August 1986.
Conceicao: Eu me lembro muito bem quando ele foi preso, porque nos tinhamos
marcado um encontro. Era para nos encontrar na fronteira. Porque a minha filha fazia tres
anos, esta mais velha. Ele fazia as compras e mandava. Eu ia receber na fronteira. So, eu
fui là nesse sabado. Eu esperei, esperei, nunca mais apareceu.
Voltei. Voltei para ca. Fui fazer uma chamada para Suazilandia para saber porque nao
veio. Liguei para uma das casas de um senhor que e maSuazi com quem nos
costumavamos viver e onde eu costumava hospedar quando vinha e havia problemas de
casas. Quando ligo ao senhor, ele disse assim para mim,’Acho que jà sabes’. Jà sei o que?
Então ele disse ‘E, não sabes?’ Explica-me o que é. Quando ele disse: ‘Olha, ele foi
preso.’ Foi assim que fiquei a saber.
She then heard that not only had he been caught but that he had been kidnapped to South
Africa.
Conceicao: Mais tarde ou que ele me contou a mim, foi o seguinte: Ele foi preso. Depois
de ter sido preso, ele e levado para uma cadeia em Oeshoek, perto da fronteira de
Swazilandia. E de ali, portanto, foram deixados là durante a noite. Naquela mesma noite
em que ele e levado para Oeshoek, aparecem uns Boers na cadeia onde ele estava.
Amarravam a policia que là estava e arrancaram as chaves. Primeiro começaram a
chamar o nome dele. Ele respondeu. Abriram a porta e entraram. Houve muita guerra,
muita luta. Explodiu com ele, mas ele disse que por pouco escapava. Quando ele estava a
conseguir, houve um gacho que lhe agarrou assim pelas calças e ele caiu. Então foi assim
que lhe apanharam. Deram-lhe muita porrada, torturaram, e amarraram-lhe as mãos, as
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pernas, e meteram-no num carro vedado. Pois deitaram-lhe muito whiskey. Meteram-lhe
assim com garrafa na boca pelo caminho. Foi assim que ele foi raptado. Ele foi preso,
acho que foi em Manzini, e meteram-no na cadeia, e depois dessa cadeia foi para outra, e
dessa outra é que foi raptado para Africa do Sul.
Even before she knew all this, she began to hear that he was betraying the ANC and the
comrades. She couldn’t believe what she heard so she went to talk to Keith in the office.
Keith was one of the ten people who had been allowed to stay after the Nkomati. He
confirmed what she had heard. Conceição was never informed formally. Maybe because
the case turned out so bitter. She was not clear what Bea and Mancheka felt.
Late Mancheka is also a person about whom there is a lot of doubt. He was in Zimbabwe
later accused of giving information to the enemy, but nothing has been confirmed, and at
least at that time, nobody knew of any wrong doings on his part.
Suddenly she got a telephone call from South Africa. She nearly got a shock because she
already thought he was dead. September told her to come and join her in South Africa.
She stopped working and got ready to leave. She didn’t say goodbye to anybody, and
didn’t even tell her mother. She found some excuse that she had to take the child to see
some of September’s family in Swaziland and therefore had to take the child with her,
otherwise she had never been allowed to go. She told only one friend that she was not
going to Swaziland but to South Africa.
It was October 86. She remembers very well because it was the time when Samora was
killed. She slept in Swaziland and got to the Oshoek border the next day where she
crossed to South Africa. There was some exciting confusion at the border where she
waited and waited, but eventually she saw this group of white soldiers and got very
frightened. One of them took her little weekend bag and indicated that she should follow
him.
Conceicao: Eu lembro-me que uma das pessoas que me recebeu foi
de Kock, Eugene de Kock. Eu até hoje... nao vou mentir. Sei que foi
muito mal com as pessoas... mas aquel senhor recebeu-me muito
bem. Mas muito bem mesmo. Foi muito humano conmigo.
They went to Piet Retief where they were installed in a hotel. To her surprise
she didn't get a stamp in her passport, and they said she wouldn't need it. In
the days that followed she got more and more confused. She changed from
hotel to hotel and asked September why she couldn't go and stay at his place.
He gave some explanation that his hostel was only for men. And they couldn't
stay in her hotel because he was black. She was not White either, but was told
that they were kind enough to let her stay since she was not a South African.
She swallowed that.
It continued for some time. During the day they were together in the office,
and in the evenings they went away, he to his side, and she to the hotel. Until
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she said that she couldn't go on living like that. He had said he had a house
for them, but it wasn't true. She moved to stay with one of the policemen's
families in a black township. He still did not come with her. When she asked
him when they were going back to Maputo he said she couldn't go back any
more. She would get into problems. maybe they would torture her because
she knew where he was.
Conceicao: Passado algum tempo...acho que foi em Dezembro,
nao sei bem, ele aparece-me onde eu estava a viver, apareceu
com uma policia branco. Ele trazia uma garrafa de gin na mao
porque ele bebia muito. Sentaram-se. Entao esse policia veio
assim para mim: Eu venho trazer teu marido. A partir de hoje ele é
um homem livre. Entao, foi quando eu descubri que esta pessoa a
final estava presa ainda. Mas ele nunca me tinha dito. Quando ele
me chama para lá, ele disse que nao esta preso, que ele esta a
viver bem, que vai ter uma casa, que ele esta a trabalhar. Eu olho
para ele. Mas ele estava tao bebado, tao bebado que nao dava
para entender. Fiquei assustada. E quando ele dizia: Eu estou
doente, eu estou com problemas de coracao.
They stayed for some more time in Piet Retief, then moved to Brits near
Pretoria and constructed a small house in the township of Ocase there.
September was now working for the police and it seemed to her that they
were doing well. Then he was moved from the Police to the Military
Intelligence. With the move his salary went up and his timetable changed. He
used to work normal hours when he was with the police, but now he would be
away from the place for two weeks, then one week normal working hours and
then one week off.
She was settling in. She learned the language of the township. She says with a
smile that she was the first Black to go to the White Hospital in Brits because
her child was ill. The second child was born in 1987, but she was not allowed
to contact her family or anybody else in Maputo.
Conceicão keeps on explaining that she had not really understood the
situation, but noticed that for a long time he counldn't visit his own parents.
He said they could risk to get their house burnt down if he visited. She
couldn't believe him.
Conceicao: Aquel homem em qualquer sitio onde ele passasse,
toda a gente gostava. O proprio servico. Okay, ele estava a
trabalhar com eles, mas eu tenho a máxima certeza que ele
sempre sabia o que queria. Sempre lutou para o bom de toda a
gente. Ele defendia uma causa a pesar de estar a trabalhar com os
proprios boers, os boers respeitavam aquele homem, porque ele
dizia que a pesar de nós sermos negros, estamos a trabalhar com
vosco. Mesmo na zona de Brits onde nós viviamos, qualquer
pessoa que tivesse algum problema, seja problema social, vinham
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todos a correr a pedir apoio a September. Eu até chamava a ele
"The social worker".
Come the new government, September lost his job. He got some money as
one pay off, but it was not enough. Now was the time that he really went for
the drinking. He refused to do anything. Stayed at home drinking heavily. By
that time Conceicão had tied some of her old contacts with family and
friends. The Mantcheka had even been to visit them. September was also now
seeing his family. But very few people realised how serious his situation was.
He was very good at hiding it.
Conceicao decided to go back to Maputo with the family and start selling
beers together with her mother. Mancheka was by now in Zimbabwe. When
September was to take the children back to South Africa for their schooling
he started drinking and became ill. We are now in 1994. Two or three days
after he passed away.
There have been several theories about how he passed away. Was it aids? was
it drinking? was it poison? Even Concecoa is not sure:
Conceicao: Eu nao sei dizer de facto o que aconteceu. Comecei a
estranhar um bocado quando eu fui chamado para um caso do Truth
and Reconciliation Commission para ahi testemunhar. Estavam a
falar mesmo do caso dele que era do rapto dele. O de Kock disse
naquela altura ao dar o testemunho que tem a máxima certeza que
esse homem foi envenenado e que um dia ia provar.
Entao isso tambem veio a me convencer mais que ele foi
envenenado. Eu achei estranho a forma como ele bebia. Entao
comecei a pensar que talvez tenham deitado qualquer coisa na
bebida que fazia com que ele digerisse mais. Ele nao comia. So
bebia. Era whiskey. Era vinho. Era cerveja. Era gin.
Era uma coisa lente. Porque ele, nos ultimos dias, até ficou
hinchado. Eu olhei para a cara dele, quando ele sai de Maputo para
Africa do Sul, quando mando alguem para ir buscar, eu olho para
ele, ahi é que depois de ter ficado alguns dias longe, que eu notei
que esse homem a cara está hinchada.
Conceicao is now back in Maputo and has built up her life again. She is
working in an office at the University, and the children are schooling in
Nelspruit. Like so many others she has problems making ends meet and
finding money for the school fees. Should she go to the ANC and get the
same support as other freedom fighters' widows and children? At the time of
the interview she had not yet told the real story to her children although they
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were aware that their father had been discussed at the Truth and
Reconciliation Commission.
I ask her whether she has a picture of September and she goes to a
photograph standing on the bookshelf. She takes it down, manoeuvres the
picture out of the frame, and there behind is a picture of her husband.
Undetectable by anybody who doesn't know.
There were many love stories in the middle of the struggle. Some of them have been
referred to. They were young. They were far away. Without family. They fell in love.
Actually what explanation is needed? Many couples between a Mozambican and an
ANC were formed to disappear again. Many couples formed and remained stable
marriages with children and a future. At this stage, they didn’t know what the future
could bring. But those who found an MK knew that it was most likely to be a short love
affair.
Celia Meneses has already told how she was caught in the aftermath of the Nkomati
agreement. But why was she considered an "ANC-girl" as she says?
She met an ANC comrade, Alfie, from the Military in the house of a friend:
Celia: Era altura em que havia falta de água e como ela era sozinha na casa havia água
para todos tomarem banho. Eu acabava de tomar banho e o Alf estava na porta e olhava
para mim. E foi assim que a gente se conheceu. Comecamos a enamorar assim.
Celia still lived at home, but Alfie didn’t get anywhere near to her father’s place. Her
father was convinced that this relationship would lead to nothing. He even said it straight
to her. This guy is going to be killed. So she left home. She had the age and a job. She
worked in the Cooperação International with Janet Mondlane and with Henny Matos. Her
first job after having finished her law degree at the Eduardo Mondlane University.
Her father had wanted a good wedding like her younger sister got some years later. Come
il faut. With church and many important people. Her mother was more understanding.
and helped her move into a new flat.
At her job she felt she had to announce who was her new boyfriend:.
Celia: Naquela altura houve muito disso de quem anda com estrangeiro.... nao e bem
visto. E a minha politica era superrectissima. Ela (Henny Matos) era directora nacional da
Cooperacao Internaciona - Janet (Mondlane) jà tinha saido. Eu fui falar com ela: Eu
tenho um namorado sulafricano. Se tu achas que nao está bem eu continuar a trabalhar,
diz? Ela disse: Nâo, acho que nâo há problema nenhum. E senti-me calma.
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Assim ela sabia oficialmente.
We know how she reacted to the Nkomati Agreement. Afterwards she asked her good
friend Marcelino dos Santos who was the governor of Sofala Province to give her a job.
She got one. In the middle of Renamo territory. Sent on an aeroplane, she and the pilote
alone in the middle of the worst war. She is still shocked that he could do that. But she
went. She was supposed to make a report about a medical post.
It is when she comes back to Beira from the trip that her mother and her sister came to
tell her that Alf has been killed. He was very young. One of the youngest from the
Soweto generation. She never knew his real name. Only in the new dispensation she
learned that he was called something like Brown. He was a mix of Malayan and Black.
He never talked a lot about himself. He mostly talked about the people who got killed.
His friends. Celia did not know of any of the jobs Alf was involved in. She didn’t ask.
Didn’t want to know. She never knew either how exactly he got killed.
Celia: Só sei que ele morreu em Durban. E que foi enterrado ou em Port Elizabeth ou em
East London. O que eu sei é que ele era daquela zona.
In her case, her love was Alfie. There were other people who came in and out of the flat:
Joe Slovo, Rachid, Bonny and others, but only visiting or having meetings during the day
time when she was away. The ANC as such had nothing to do with her. She sums up the
relationship:
Celia: O Alfie morreu. Para mim o Alfie era aquel amor que sabia que podia desaparecer
a qualquer altura. Eu nem conseguia chorar, mesmo quando a minha mae dizia, porque e
que tu nao choras. Porque eu jà chorei tanto, tanto, tanto que agora jà nao ha nada para
chorar. Eu nao vou fazer psiquiatra para os meus nervos, porque eu jà trago isto para
muito tempo.
Celia later struck up a relationship with Indres and moved in with him. A daughter was
born... but soon after Indres had to leave the country, and Celia brought up her little
Janine alone.
Fatima Mendonça is another Mozambican woman who got into the ANC circles. But for
her the ANC was more than the love affair. We heard how she happened to meet Albie
because they lived in the same student hostel. We heard that they shared a car, and that
suddenly they found out that there was more between them than just a car. Here is her
version of the love story and her relation with the ANC:
Fatima came to Mozambique when she was 18 years old.
She was to the Portuguese Communist Party and worked closely with writers and
intellectuals amongst other with Leite Vasconcelos. After a short spell in Portugal she
returned to mozambique, but before leaving she was warned by her Party leaders not to
have relationships with certain nationalities which were thought to be connected with the
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CIA or other contra revolutionary groups and she should also be careful of the
‘esquerdistas’ the ultra lefts like the Chileans.
She returned to Mozambique as a lecturer at the UEM and at the SELF met Albie.
Who was he? The accent was a bit different. She thought of the advice given to her and
asked him about his nationality. British Passport. She reacted immediately. No, she
couldn’t have anything to do with him. Must be an infiltrator who wanted to get access to
her house. She talked to a Communist friend at the Law Faculty...that she had met a
person from CIA; he laughed and told her that Albie was from the ANC.
From there a close relationship developed between them.
She lived at Mao Tse Tung, and Zareena was also working at the University at the
Faculty of Mathematics. They became quite good friends. Through Zareena, Mac
Maharaj started coming to her house.
It is Mac who for the first time asked her to help the ANC. First some photocopying job,
then for her to host people for few days and finding other people who would do the same.
That is how Alf found a place with one of her colleagues. The first person in her house
was Farouk, who had come out of prison, and crossed the border. He stayed with her for
some time. The second person was Indres. From there on there were lots of people who
normally spent only two or three days. People she didn’t know. And she didn’t ask either.
The next phase of her support was when she moved to a bigger house (in 1979-80) and
Farouk asked her to keep weapons. She let the ANC use her house as a kind of cell. She
didn't know very much about the ANC structures, but she knew that Rachid was a
Political Commissar and Chris a Military Commissar. Chris was a comrade she had been
asked to keep in the house for three months in 1980. He was a very calm person, who
didn’t go out. Chris worked with Rachid and with a third person, George who lived in
Swaziland, but stayed with her when he visited Maputo.
At a certain point she had to react. They were using her too much. Too many people in
the house. She was alone with three sons and a maid and wanted her private life also. She
agreed with the ANC that they could use part of the house. A big attic of 30 square
meters. But there were many problems. Sometimes her house was like a military camp.
She ended up having to be the commander of these people. This had a positive influence,
because they obeyed her, but it was quite a work for her. There were too many people.
Fatima: ANC distributed these food rations. So every week they appeared with rice,
flour, and they left it there. And the comrades were fine, they cooked, they washed the
plates, and they organised and did everything. One day, I was there in the sitting room. I
suddenly saw some people in the kitchen that I didn’t know and who didn’t belong to the
house. I had seen them before, but they did not stay there. They had a packet of butter in
the hand and a packet of meat. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked when realising that they
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had taken these from the fridge. Each of them with a packet of butter and a packet of
meat in their hands. The comrades who lived in the house were upstairs. I called
them.What is this all about? Your friends cannot come here. They stayed in other houses
and came there to visit their friends and on top of it they were taking from their rations.
They were ANC comrades from somewhere else." The situation at that time of having
meat in your house! I was furious, thought it was a terrible lack of discipline, called
Rachid, and didn’t allow those two to go. Rachid came and took them away. Some days
later, they appeared in my house to say that they were sorry, and to tell that they were
leaving for Angola as a punishment. I felt so bad afterwards.
Chris now became the permanent person in her house and in her life. The reason why she
insisted on having a private life. But he often went to Swaziland on missions. When he
came back. Fatima would of course not ask him what he had been involved with. She did
not know whether he was part of SASOL, but there was a young chap in the house who
was, because he ended up talking to her about it. Not directly, but she understood that he
had been involved in the SASOL action.
Chris was involved in the attack of Voortrekkers Hoogte. About a year later, in 1981
Chris and George were caught in an ambush in Swaziland and killed. This was a big
shock for her and for her children aged between 6 and 9 who liked him very much. Now
so long time after, she is very calm as she tells the story. Far from the emotional
description by Albie of her immediate reaction.
They went to Swaziland to meet somebody. Apparently the person did not turn up. They
received a telephone call from the person they were to meet. The person talked in code
and proverbs. They doubted about his message. They then went to the meeting, where
they were ambushed by SA commandos and were killed both of them. She knew George
because he had also stayed in her house.
It was Joe Slovo who came to give her the information afterwards.It was in the evening.
She stopped the car in front of her house, and she saw Joe Slovo standing there waiting
for her. And he said: ‘Fatima, I have very bad news for you.’
Fatima: Joe is a person who could have some distance and coldness, but he
was a person with a lot of humanity and he knew very well that we had reached
another level of emotional relationship. It is not for fun that you have a person
in your house for a year without reaching some kind of friendship with him. And
he then said: ‘Chris has been killed.’
After that she said to Joe Slovo that she would continue to be ready for whatever was
necessary. She had known Joe Slovo for some time. He came to her house regularly and
had meetings there. The house was used for several purposes. One of them was to have
meetings. There were two sitting rooms, so Joe could freely use one of them. And he
always announced in good time that he wanted to use it for a meeting. So she had already
known Joe for quite some time.
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From that time on she felt fairly unsafe in that house. There were now several indications
that the South Africans knew the house.
At the time of the Nkomati Agreement her house was the object of a raid by the
Mozambican army. The South African military had probably got her name and her house
on their list which they gave to the Mozambicans who had to satisfy their demands. She
tells in details what happened at ther aid.
And that is why she started planning to get out of that house.
She moved to Julius Nyerere Avenue.
Chris’ work had to be continued. So another person took over. A person she knew. He
got the same cover name and stayed in her house. He was also killed. It was nearly the
whole cell which was destroyed.
She always had a profound relationship with Albie. She was known to often get angry
with Albie. There was closeness between them, but culturally they were very different.
But she realised when Albie was attempted killed, how much this affected her. She even
entered in a state of shock.
Albie was a colleague. Intellectual. They were similar in their tasts. They shared friends
and led a ‘normal’ life: Cinema, friends, theatre, discussion and political life. With Chris
it was very different. Chris came to stay in her house. Invaded the space she had with her
children. He was brought up in Soweto. From a poor but very artistic family. He had had
a traumatic childhood with a stepfather.
With Albie, she reacted to his views on the world, hers were completely different, she
even felt that he was paternalistic about Mozambique. They discussed a lot. With Chris it
was different. She didn’t know who he was. She understood immediately that he was an
operational, a man of arms, but he had an attitude that she identified with completely and
switched on to immediately. Apartheid. Injustice. She actually understood better Chris’
dynamics than Albie’s. And it was another world which she was curious about. She
didn’t ask question, but ended up understanding it. There was an empathy between them.
Also an aura of mystery. She knew that he could disappear and he had told her that he
didn’t expect to live for many years. She knows who was the informer, because he had
even been to her house. Victor told her later who it was. And even Chris himself had said
to her, I do not have confidence in him.
Some had parents. Some had children, or wives or lovers. They were human beings with
their projects for the future. Unfortunately these ones did not carry them out. The group
which stayed in her house was nearly reduced to zero. In this unit, this cell, which
organised the attack on Voortrekker Hoogte, hardly any one survived. From that time the
Boers must have started actions of persecution and identification of the people involved.
It is sad to hear the ending to this action which Rachid described in such heroic ways.
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But not all lost their loved ones.
Many marriages took place between the comrades and Mozambican women.
Sertorio has a sister, Olga Chambale. She was fourteen when her parents put her in the
car and left Chiawela with direction towards Maputo.
She didn’t really understand what was going on. Her father thought she was not big
enough to be drawn into the details of why they left South Africa and what awaited them
in Maputo. All she understood was that she felt miserable. Alone and Isolated. Without a
future. She had to go to school without understanding the language and with an education
system completely different from where she came from. A neighbourhood completely
different, although of course she was lucky enough to go there within her family.
Fortunately for her, after some time she found other South African youth also alone. One
of them was Mosse, an ANC guerrilla. In 1981 they got their first child, Kateko and in
1983 they married formerly. After the Nkoamti Accord everything changed. Olga was
sent to Mazimbu with Kateko and took her little nephew, Peace, with her. Mosse fled to
Swaziland and then went inside where he was arrested.
He got seven years on Robben Island. After some time Olga was called back to Maputo
by the Red Cross who was trying to facilitate visits for her to Robben Island with the
children.
Olga: I used to go to Robben Island twice a year. I used to go with my kids. We used to
travel April. It was a good time, because the weather was calm. And December. That is
where we used to travel. During school holidays, in December and April. Because June...
He used to write letters saying that no, don’t come with the kids. The weather is not fine
here.
It was so frustrating some times when you go there. You go there. I was given a two
weeks’ visa. I must apply to be at Robben Island. But you find out that in a week, you
sometimes have only one day visit. And it was very short. And the rest of the days you
would be spending not seeing him. It was frustrating, you had come all this way and you
have got a visa, and sometimes, when you are still there, you can come and say, this week
at least you have got two days visit, and then all of a sudden they change, you have to
book again for the other week. It was sometimes very bad...
First time we went there, it was through the screen. Intercom. He was seated that side,
and we were talking through the telephone, and we were not allowed to see him
physically. After two years, he was exposed to us, when we can sit down and talk to him.
But the hours were limited.
He was not always allowed to touch the children. Sometimes. It depended on the warder.
That is why I said, it is frustrating. Because you come all this way, seated there. They
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used to give us 45 minutes to talk to you, to see him, and it was not sufficient. So the only
sufficient time to communicate fully with him was through writing letters. But that letter,
before it reaches him, they must read it, and approve it. So it was a little bit frustrating.
Olga’s voice is shaking when she talks about this, although it is twenty years ago.
The International Red Cross was her safety. They could guarantee her safety. Bu in the
direct contact there was one person who came to mean a lot for her, a lawyer called Judy,
later to marry Tokyo Sexwale. She was the one who protected them, in particular Olga
who came from far away. Judy knew her background, her life in Tanzania and in
Mozambique and she was allowed inside the cells to talk to the prisoners because she was
a lawyer. When she became more familiar with the trips she could also be used to take
information back and out of the prison with the advice from Judy....
We have told some of Odette’s meeting with Dan Tsakane. Odette Saraiva e Sousa was
a Mozambican student who got a job in the Radio. She lived outside town, in Matola and
then in Machava. From 1982 she worked full time in the radio
Odette: Foi ahi que nós nos conhecemos. Começamos a nos olhar um a outro, e acho que
todo começou ahi. Ele (Dan Tsakani) jà olhava a mim quando eu entrei na Radio com 17
anos. Mas era mais brincadeira que outra coisa, mas depois, olha em 83 é quando
começamos a andar seriamente juntos e tive o meu primeiro filho em 84, e em 85
casamo-nos e tive mais filhos. Mais três, depois do casamento não contando com os dois
que perdí. .
But it was very problematic for her. There were reactions both from her own family and
from her work colleagues:
Odette: Tive muitos problemas a partir do serviço, familia que não concordavam com o
meu casamento com Dan e que achavam que Dan era um criminoso, incluindo o meu
falecido pai também. Nem assistiu ao meu casamento porque achava que me estava a
casar com um criminoso. Foi mais a noção de certas familias.
Odette tells me something I was not aware of, and not many have given the same version
Odette: Em Mocambique, na altura, achou-se muito mal sobre os sulafricanos. Eram
conhecidos como violentos, como bandidos. Muita gente. Não foi generalisado, acho que
não são todos, mas a maioria que eu conheci, sempre tivemos medo dos sulafricanos,
achavamos que os sulafricanos eram muito violentos e bandidos.
Fortunately there were no problems with Dan. She had many friends married to South
Africans where the husbands were unfaithful and cheated on their wives. It was nearly a
pattern, but fortunately this was not her case.
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Odette: Mas quanto ao meu casamento com Dan eu tive muito apoio da minha irmã mais
velha con que eu vivia. A minha mãe apoiou-me também, e... certos amigos. Disseram
‘Odette, se gostas dele’... mas o grande apoio que eu tive foi da minha irmã, a minha
mãezinha e o tio. Foram os que me apoiaram. Disseram ‘Olha, estas pessoas do resto da
familia, queiram vir ou não ao teu casamento, não interessa. O que interessa é que você
vai se casar. Isso é o mais importante." E foi a coisa que me fez ganhar mais força,
porque chegou um certo tempo em que eu jà estava a perder forças por ouvir muitas
coisas. No serviço estavam a me fazer a vida negra ‘Porque que me vou casar com um
sulafricano? Será que os moçambicanos não são homens?’ este tipo de coisas.
What was a bit surprising for me was that Odette was badly received by the ANC
women. I have later, unfortunately heard it over and over again.
Odette: E por parte do ANC também passei mal com as senhoras do ANC. ‘Porque é que
Dan vai se casar com uma moçambicana? Porque nós sulafricanas não somos mulheres?’
This remark, yes, I have been confronted with that one. A person as ‘important’ as
Winnie Mandela has told my husband the same thing: ‘Why did you marry a foreigner.
Are we South African women not good enough?’ I took it for clear racism, and laughed it
off. Surprised to realise that even a Mozambican is considered ‘foreign’. Tough luck for
Winnie that Nelson decided to follow that route also!
Odette: Acho que era mais ciúme que outra coisa. Esperavam Dan casar-se com uma
sulafricana, não com uma moçambicana. Por causa disto mesmo eu não me integrei
muito com o ANC. Não me integrei muito com o ANC porque não me achava sossegada,
não porque eu não gostasse deles, eu gostava deles, mas eu vi daquilo que eles tentaram
fazer, então preferia afastar-me um pouco. Quando houvesse ceremónias eu sempre
estava lá, sempre apoiei Dan, qualquer coisa que ele quisesse fazer, seja como membro
do ANC, tive muita gente a jantar na minha casa, convidei-lhes e nunca tive assim
problemas.
Eu tinha muitos amigos. Era muito conhecida. Mas desde que eu casei com Dan, e eu
saber a situacao politica do Dan, eu pensei a nao confiar em ninguem, porque eu podia
pensar ‘esta aqui e amiga, a final de contas nao e amiga, e inimigo’. Entao afastei-me de
todas as amizades que tinha. Mas e para Dan’s sake. Preferi vivir eu, Dan e… a minha
mae, as minhas irmaes, a pouca familia, pessoas que eu achasse era da minha confianca.
Tivemos uma relação muito boa com Dan. Acabamos de fazer 16 anos juntos casados e
problema serio... não vou mentir... nunca houve problemas serios no casamento com Dan.
Vinha para Africa do Sul. Fui aceitada por os familiares do Dan. Fui aceitada muito bem.
A minha sogra, uma mãe para mim. E assim como Dan também teve muito apoio da parte
da minha mãe em Moçambique, as minhas irmães gostam muito dele e os meus primos
também, quando vem o Dan é o melhor amigo deles. É uma coisa que me faz sentir
também satisfeita, é que o Dan, em Mocambique, está em casa.
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Unlike my own experience, Odette feels that the neighbours didn’t trust her very much.
There were Mozambicans who were killed by the Boers because they lived next to ANC
comrades, so it could be dangerous .
Odette: Recordo uma das minhas vizinhas do mesmo predio conmigo depois disso, como
sabiam que eu e o Dan viviamos no mesmo prédio. Ela fez uma campanha por todo
prédio a dizer às pessoas de por nas portas onde é que trabalham. Quem trabalhava no
Ministério de Agricultura, escrivia ‘Ministério de Agricultura’. Começamos a ver isto nas
portas e pensamos, ‘Prontos, são pessoas que vivem là, preferem por nas portas onde
trabalham’, a final de contas havia uma campanha em caso de os Boers chegarem mais
uma vez, andam de porta em porta e vem, não, aqui mora alguem que trabalha no
Ministério de Agricultura, aqui mora alguem que trabalha na Educação, quem trabalha
não sei onde, e eu e o Dan sem sabermos o que se estava a passar, não pussemos nada a
nossa porta. Tal vez para itentificar que aqui vive um membro do ANC.
It was not easy for Odette, but as she said: I would rather die with somebody I love than
die alone in the street or somehow. She also got anonymous telephone calls saying that
the Boers were looking for her. There was even a person who came to ask for her at
work, but their watchman said she was not there. They had the number plate of the car
and handed the case to SNASP, but she never heard that they found out who it was.
Odette: Eram momentos muito dificeis para mim. Muito mesmo, muito. A minha vida
foi sempre medo em Moçambique. Quando me casei com Dan, vivia com medo.Foi uma
vida muito traumatizante mesmo
Her fear was such that they decided not to keep the child with them. Most of the time she
lived with her grandmother in Matola.
It became so bad that she decided to leave her work in the Radio.
Odette: Fiz uma carta, pedi para deixar o meu emprego. Arranjei ume disculpa, como
tinha a minha filha doente, mas não era porque a minha filha andava doente, era disculpa
que eu fazia porque jà não aguentava de ouvir coisas das pessoas sempre a me
maltrataram, preferia ficar em casa. Fiz uma carta, pedi a minha dimissão e a Radio
dimitiu-me. Foi em 1989. Depois disso fiquei uns cinco meses em casa a descansar.
Then came the time when they could go ‘home’ to South Africa to stay there for good.
Her new Fatherland.
It was not only Olga or Odette. It was not only Celia or Fatima. As indicated at the
beginning of this subchapter, they had the age of falling in love (if such age exists) and
the need of having a partner. After Nkomati we realised what the consequences of these
love affairs were: A host of little babies were produced. I personally got angry when I
realised this: Why was it that Zola and Nkele had a whole programme of
anticontraception as compulsory in the camps in Angola, but the male comrades were left
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to produce endless numbers of babies? But Pren, fortunately, was more understanding
and explained the situation in a more humane way (I am a woman, Pren is a man,
perhaps that is why we look at it slightly differently):
Pren: We recognised the huge responsibility we had taken on with the people of
Mozambique. The children. The babies that our comrades had had with Mozambican
women, and they weren’t married to them. And you know, working in Chamanculo, I’d
set up special hours to see them. You know, that trouble came to light after the comrades
had left. These women and the children were being fed through our feeding system,
which was adequate for them to survive. Now, gee, when the comrades left, they left
behind women with children not working and they started pitching up at the office.
We gave them Nido and other powder milk. From a health view point I felt this was
tragic. I needed a whole programme on its own to deal with it. So I decided to look at that
in special hours at work. They would come and see me.
These babies are now over 20 years of age…. If their mothers managed to get them
through.
We were all hit hard at the Nkomati agreement. It took us some time to recover. And we
lost so many comrades because of the unorganized haphazard way the comrades had to
leave the country.
So much more was the importance of the few visits we got from home. It happened,
although rarely, that we got visits in Maputo from the inside. Clandestinely there were
many meetings, many exchanges, as has been shown in earlier chapters. But official open
visits. Few.
The excitement was big when Alan Boesak came to Maputo in 1985 as part of the 14th
of February celebration of the Solidarity and Friendship day between the Mozambican
and the South African people as a consequence of the Matola massacre.
He was invited by AMASP, the Mozambican Friendship Association at a time when he
was the President of the World Alliances of Reformed Churches as well as one of the
patrons of South Africa’s United Democratic Front.
I have forgotten whether the event took place in Cinema Africa or in Gil Vicente. And it
does not matter. What I shall never forget was the excitement of listening to Dr. Alan
Boesak, at that time one of the most charismatic of the UDF leaders, fighting for the same
cause and in alliance with us.
The cinema was packed, and I thought back at the evening when Abdul Ibrahim filled the
same theatre in his concert after the assassination of Ruth First. He spoke well. He spoke
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about the advancement of the struggle. Next to him, we could see the president of
AMASP, Abner Sansão Muthemba, and we could see the interpreter while the
performance carried on. And all of a sudden, all lights went.
We who lived in Maputo were accustomed to these power cuts. Yet, we could not help
thinking whether this was done on purpose by the racist South Africa through which the
Cabora Bassa electricity lines passed on their way back to Mozambique. I was wondering
how Boesak understood the cut. There was no panic. We all just remained seated and
waited. Was the power going to come back in a moment, or would there be a black out
the whole evening and the end of our event? Was it on purpose? Was it just a
coincidence?
After having waited for five to ten minutes in the absolute dark knowing but not seeing
the hundreds of other people in a constraint room, the organisers lit some candles at the
main table, gave a torch to Dr. Boesak, and excused the interruption.
And Boesak continued as if nothing had happened. His speech became even more
burning, even more powerful in the total darkness. We could see his face. In absolute
silence from the audience. I think everybody, was seeing the same frightful sight as I. If
the power cut was done on purpose by the racist regime, then a sniper could not have
missed. In the total darkness, only one body and one face was in the light. What an easy
target. A no miss. The voices that were called upon to shout: Amandla at the end of his
talk, could have lifted the roof. We were through. He was safe. What a brave man,
thought I.... and probably everyone in the hall. The shout was like a burden you throw off
your shoulders when you have reached the end and your worst fears turned out to be
unnecessary.
Boesak gave us his picture of the present situation in the country and in the struggle.
He talked about the three initiatives in 1984 which the regime hoped would allow it to
continue keeping the initiative.The introduction of a new constitution in South Africa
with three Chambers (Whites, Indians, Coloured). P.W.Botha’s trip to Europe which he
considered a big breakthrough. The Nkomati Accord where Botha wanted to prove that
not only was South Africa ready for changes, but it had the diplomatic initiative towards
the region as a whole. According to Boesak, that is where the regime lost their strategic
lead. The masses did not accept the new constitution and the two other attempts on
impressing the western world failed as dismally. It was clear that the regime had lost its
initiative.It is our determination which decides the pace of the struggle was Boesak's
conclusion.
Boesak underlined that the government had been very successful in dividing the people
of South Africa on the basis of ethnicity. The most obvious success was the homeland
policy. One could see that policy, ethnic divisions, tribal divisions, have been given not
only ideological meaning, but also political and structural meaning.
Boesak: Therefore I think it would be unwise in the struggle simply to say that it does
not play a role. It plays a negative role because the government has been given enough
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time, mainly by the West, to indeed give structural expression to that particular ideology.
It will remain a difficult factor because we not only have to dismantle apartheid, we also
have to dismantle the structure of ethnicity brought about by apartheid. But it must be
very disturbing to the government that, in spite of the overpowering ethnic feeling the
government has created, we have been able to overcome that.
Boesak also talked about the role of the UDF and the trade unions. In the 70s thetrade
unions of all organisations were the hardest hit. They went through extraordinarily
difficult times. Their struggle was not only against the government but also against the
employers, the management of the big companies. Therefore as far as Boesak was
concerned it was understandable if the trade unions only wanted to join up with the UDF
in specific campaigns.
Boesak: It is not the goal of the UDF to have every single existent organisation under its
aegis. The main issue is that on the points that really matter can we come together and
have the kind of coordinated action with the kind of unity that would make a difference in
terms of the struggle.
Boesak did not believe that P.W. Botha or the government as a whole had the capacity
nor the will to change fundamentally out of themselves. Only if pressurised. They would
not change out of the goodness of their hearts.
A few days later, the then director of AIM, the Mozambican News Agency, Carlos
Cardoso made an interview with him. Carlos Cardoso was one of the young Mozambican
journalists who had supported the Frelimo struggle. He had studied in South Africa and
was relegated from the University and sent back ‘home’ to Portugal. He refused bitterly
to acknowledge Portugal as his home and insisted on being sent back home to
Mozambique. His knowledge about South Africa was high and he had actually assisted
the Minister of Information, Jose Cabaço in a think tank on the reading of events in South
Africa.
When Boesak was asked to mention the most important thing that had happened in 1984
he did not state the stay away from election of the tricameral parliament. The real
important event, according to him
Boesak: We have given the people back their self-respect. I think you can only
understand that when you yourself have been in a situation of oppression, and have seen
how people begin to have value in their human dignity, when people begin to think that
the system is not invincible, we can challenge it and we can win. I keep on saying to
people in UDF meetings: this is what has happened and you are making it happen.
Cardoso asked him what his reaction was to the invitation to come to Mozambique.
Boesak: I was very surprised. I was very excited. I think the visit is a breakthrough. I
think it is an important visit and that diplomatically we have once again taken the
initiative. We are a step ahead of the South African government. It is important for South
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Africa that it be seen to take the right steps, in terms of the world. The Front Line States
are playing a very important role in all this. The Front Line States are no longer the
monopoly of the South African government. The visit to Mozambique has broken
through that monopoly. We will now have the right to say we have been there, we have
spoken to the people, this is our message to the people, this is their message to us. And
that, diplomatically and politically is very important.
I remember this as a very important visit at the personal level. I had to realise that I knew
very little about what was going on inside the country. The scope of the UDF. The level
of the struggle. The number of NGOs that were opposing the government politically had
terms of literacy, health, agriculture in the middle of the total oppression.
Whatever happened later, I still admire Boesak for the person he was when he stood there
in the candlelight at the Cinema Africa in Maputo, totally committed to the struggle.
The interviewer, Carlos Cardoso, survived the freedom struggle of Frelimo. He survived
the struggle against the bandits. What he didn’t survive was the present struggle against
corruption and fraud in his country. In November 2000 he was killed while investigating
secrets about a major financial scam in which it seemed that leading Mozambican
politicians were involved. The book about his life and death by Paul Fauvet and Marcelo
Mosse, has already been mentioned.
It was at a very interesting time that this interview took place, a year after Nkomati and a
few months before the ANC Kabwe Conference where the decision was taken to start
talks-before-the-talks. Boesak’s assessment was correct: We had taken over the initiative
and certain layers of the white establishment had come to understand the damages
apartheid was doing to themselves and wanted change.
Boesak arrived at a time in Mozambique when the war was so heavy that the Renamo
attacks even reached into the cities. In Maputo you could not go to Matola at night. You
could not live in Pescadores. And even people in Bairro do Triumfo did not dare to go out
after dark. It was dangerous to go to the border, as Freddy demonstrated. It was the time
when the massacres and burning of villages, attacks on civilians and cars were at their
highest.
But it was also the time when Renamo’s headquarters Casa Banana in the Gorongosa
Camp were discovered, and when Samora Machel on his tour to the USA was able to
prove that the South Africans had had no intention to honour the Treaty and how deeply
and directly they had supported the Bandits. Chester Crocker’s doctrine of ‘constructive
engagement’ was proved once and for all to have died.
One positive consequence of this South African led Renamo aggressions, was that the
links between the ANC and Frelimo, which had so been destroyed after Nkomati, seemed
to come alive again. And Alan Boesak's visit was a sign of this renewed relationship.
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205
Chapter Five
A Renewal of Trust: Mozambique, the ANC and the Fall
of Apartheid, 1986-1990
The funeral was huge. Comrade Moses Mabhida was lying on lit de parade in the
Municipal Hall where thousands and thousands of people paraded past his coffin. Big
photographs of him with his well-known beard, the Mozambican flag and the SACP flag
were guarding him together with the flames of the torch. Silently, in a long line outside
the Hall, we walked towards the coffin, step by step, and then passed him with a silent
reference of a bow or just a glance on this remarkable man. "Hamba Kahle". Time to say
good-bye and to remember his life. A big number of ANC cadres had flown in from
Lusaka. Despite the sad occasion they did not miss the opportunity and carried all kinds
of weapons in their luggage, probably thinking that Mabhida would have totally agreed
with them not to lose a good opportunity for getting vital arms to the comrades. Tommy
and Zola managed in the last moment to empty their Hotel Rooms in the Party Hotel
Rovuma, before the Mozambicans would do it.
ANC leaders and Communist leaders from all over the world had come to pay their last
respect. Amandla was singing and the ANC flag was covering the coffin. A film was
made which will for ever remind us of the big event. His wife, an old , blind Zulu woman
was allowed to come to Maputo to attend the funeral, and Mrs. Chambale was sent to the
border to fetch her. We went to see her at her guesthouse in Sommerschield, and both
Samora and Graca Machel also came to give her their condolences, full of respect and
dignity. There was a calm toy-toying in front of the coffin by the comrades before it was
taking to its last resting place in Lhanguene Cemetery outside Maputo.
The most significant about the funeral on that March day of 1986 was that we were not
only burying Mabhida: We were also burying Nkomati.
Frelimo made it a big state funeral. They wanted to make a point. What they couldn’t say
in words, was said through this funeral. The statement was that the ANC was again free
to operate from their country. It was a big step. And although there had been small
openings for quite some time this was the statement high and loud. No way of going
back, not for Frelimo. Not for the ANC.
If we want to understand who Mabhida was, we have to go back to where we left Nkele.
Having finished her training in Angola, she went to the USSR and came back to Angola
where she stayed in the transit camp of Vienna in Luanda. It was her duty to receive new
recruits and to be responsible for the female commanders in Luanda.
In 1982 Moses Mabhida came to Luanda and asked for her. At first he wanted her to
assist him in some secretarial work like taking notes from dictations. He then decided that
he wanted her to work for him long term, and that same year came back to fetch her. He
now lived permanently - as permanently as any leader with his stature of Secretary
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General of the Communist Party could live—in Maputo and she spent a week in Maputo
just to see what it was like. But after returning to Luanda she was sent off to train in the
GDR, in an Intelligence course. They stayed for six months in the GDR and when she
came back it was difficult to be released to work in Maputo. Mabhida kept on sending
faxes to the office. When would she be coming? And to her he sent nice postcards which
she is still keeping up till to-day.
During a Youth Conference in Mazimbu as an Angola delegate she met up with Cde
Mabhida again. He insisted that she come to Maputo and after a short spell in Lusaka he
took her on a plane towards the end of 1982. She then worked with him in Maputo until
1985.
The big old men were fighting for the young military-intelligence female cadres. At that
time, it was still the most common thing that the women although they had gone through
a lot of training in different countries and with different specialities, were meant to be the
secretaries of some of the important leaders. She was still planning to marry Master, her
boyfriend from before they left the country. And he her. They had literally been away
from each other since 1978 but in 1982, about the time she arrived in Maputo, they had
filed an application to the Secretary General’s office to get married. And the marriage
was approved. But that was not the end of the story, because the head of Intelligence, Joe
Nhanhla wanted to marry her and he was an influential man. Nkele turned to Mabhida for
his support:
I asked the old man, Mabhida: if it was his daughter, what was he going to do.
Would he allow his daughter to get married to an old man? He said: ‘No, go and
tell him that you don’t want him.’
Mabhida was a different story, she says:
He was like my second father. Very nice. He treated me like his daughter. I have a
name today. My name is Zai. I got that name from him. One of his daughters was
Zai. Zai-Zai. He called me Zai-Zai. And most of the time he called me my real
name, he never used ‘Nkele’. If we were just alone. I can say that was very
special. I told him that I had a boyfriend that I wanted to get married to. But that he
is not here. He was at the camp at the time. But he didn’t like that. Will you still
work with me if you get married? It means that you have to stay with this man...
She and Master got married in Maputo in 1983 and Master became a commander
operating with Maputo as his base.
A close bond developed between Nkele and Mabhida. A father-to-daughter bond as
Nkele explains A close working relationship. He would write to her whenever he was
away on his conferences and meetings:
Loving Nkele,
what was wrong? I have been away for a long time!
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I am missing you, my child. I feel Okay in any case; I will soon see you and others.
See you!!!
Your father,
M.M.
When Nkele started working for Mabhida in 1983, she took over a notebook with
minutes of meetings and drafts of letters. In it she found—meticulously written—the
autobiography of Mabhida dictated to a previous secretary. His own memories of his
childhood, youth and the beginning of his political work. Here is an extract some of it:
Autobiography of Moses Mbheki Mncone Mabhida
Born on the 14 of October 1923, in the district of P/Mburg in Thornville.
My father Stimela was of peasant stock, but there was the cutting op of farms. By
the time I was born, he drifted into the surroundings of the City of P/Mburg and got
employment in the electricity Dpt. of P/Mburg.
My mother Anna Nobuzi born of Phakathi was of Christian Attitudes. She had
assemblance of education to the extent that she made efforts to try and teach my
father how to read and write.
The only employment I knew her to be involved in was of as a washer woman. Her
desire for the most part was to get her children to get some level of education.
We were seven in our family…
My father had some political inclination and was a radical member of the ICU. He
was however a nationalist pure and simple.
My political background rests mostly on his political approach on the issue of the
land and white settlement in S.A.
As an uneducated person, he was not a theoretician, for him it was a straight
forward issue of colonialism.
My mother was a simple housewife who as far as I know devoted her time in her
effort to bring up her children. My mother died in 1928.
My political Life
I grew up as a headboy of the fringes of the city of P/Mburg…
I started going to school in 1932, but I had to break up after the first term, because
I had had to go back and head the goats again. I was allowed back to school in
New England just outside P/Mburg. From the start of my schooling I developed the
liking of history; I also had a liking of the English language.
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…
This school we had a new prins. and a bigger no. of teachers. In 1941 the school
was reinforced by newly qualified teachers. Amongst those was Themba Harry
Gwala. He was to be our political starting point. When the USSR was invaded on
the 22nd June 1941 it was him who collected 4 senior boys at the school, and
began beving (giving) them, which included myself, the correct approach towards
the war. At that time most African people had nothing to do with the war except
that they wanted the British to be defeated and that people be liberated from
British colonialism.
Gwala then started giving us in the 1st place the guardian newspaper and then
thereafter he conducted political classes, and silently shifted our minds on the
thinking of the war towards supporting the war against nazi Germany. Thereafter
he brought us pamphlets produced by the communist p. S.A.
…
During the years of the problems within the ANC in N.T.L…. I was drawn into the
activities of the A.N.C.
I had not been able to go much further with my schooling; while I had a great
desire to further my education, my parents had no means of persuing this desire.
Therefore having done by std. 7 in 42 and passed I had to leave school and start
working. My first employment was in a military establishment as a waiter in 1943.
…
The members of the party then got me employment in a co-operative society in
which they were directors. That was John Hetslet and Peter Mattindarp. That was
a distributive trade. I worked there for 13 yrs being a member of a distributive
union. In 1952 in the cause of the difiance campaign it was suggested by the
P/Mburg district party commity (sic) that I should leave that employment and start
organising the T.U.
Under the Suppression of Communist act of 1950, many members of the party
who had been involved in the organisation of T.U. had gone banned. This included
cde Themba Gwala. Therefore the unions … were at the time left un-attended. I
therefore had to organise the Howick-Rio Rubber workers union and chemical
workers in P/Mburg.
As the call of the suppression of communist act intensified cdes in other port of
N.T.L. were being imobilised by the enemy; therefore work had to extend between
the two cities which resulted in the expansion of activities between P/Mburg and
Durban in other political fields….
I was as a trade unionist invited to participate in the first congress of SACTU after
that I was elected as one of the 4 vice-presidents.
I am not able to explain why I had never been arrested in the Treason Trial. But
once our people had got arrested the whole of my trade union activity was
compelled to shift to D.B.N.
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Before this episode I had first started working with chief Luthuli as the president of
the A.N.C. in N.T.L. Our connections grew so much that at every conference
where chief was I had to be.
In D.B.N. I got connected with the dairy workers union which earlier had been
organised bye Cebe Kay Moonsamy. We also organised the railway workers
union—baking worker union as well as the food workers specialising with JokoTea. These are the unions around which the strength of the liberation movement in
N.T.L. resolved.
In 1959 women in N.T.L. started a campaign of fighting against influx control. This
campaign at first centered around the boycott of potatoes; it was at this stage that
the women at the country-side started demonstrating against people who were still
purchasing potatoes then they without stopping started campaigning against
introduction of passes to women—They then started the campaign against the
dipping-tanks; as each campaign crossed into another, the women were increasing
in number and its class character was also changing then they crossed into the
boycott of the bear-halls. In these campaigns Dorothy Nyembe and I were fully
participating in these campaigns.
When the state of emergency was declared in 1960, our people around Durban
made their efforts in attempting to burn the pass laws. I was by decision of our
area the first one to burn my pass and the rest followed. During that period of the
state of emergency, I was advised by SACTU H.Q. to leave the country, and put
the SACTU case at the ILO. On the 6th of April I was transported from Durban to
Chostras land in Lesotho by car where I began my emegre life. From September
30th 1960 I started work with the World Federation of T.U. as a SACTU rep. I
worked in the W.F.TU until the 22nd nov. 1963 when I was told to lay off by cde
O.R.Tambo and join the ranks of MK. I did my training in Odessa in 1964. On
returning from training I was made commissar of MK until 1969 when that position
was given to cde William Marule.
During my activities in D.B.N. I had been elected as the chairman of the district
party committee until I left on that fateful day of 6 of April.
Unfortunately this handwritten autobiography only takes us to 1969. Mabhida is then 45
years old and has been in exile for five years.
As we know from John Nkadimeng he was posted in Swaziland and helped in the link
between the ANC and King Sobuza. They were very close. Even when he had moved to
Mozambique he liked to go back to Swaziland, sometimes clandestinely. He also did
ANC military work there. If there were problems in the military , or if people from home,
from Eastern Province, from Natal had a problem they would come to meet him in
Swaziland and have discussions with him. Good things, bad things that they experienced.
And he would convey it to the president. Sometimes he would officially be informing the
King that he was coming.
Nkele: Once King Sobuza called him, because when he (Mabhida) was appointed
the general secretary of the Communist Party, the first issue of the African
Communist had his photo on it. And Sobuza didn’t believe it. He said, not Mabhida.
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He never told me he wants to be a communist. So he must come here and tell me.
And he made arrangements that when he is back in Maputo, he must come and
visit him. He went and they discussed. Because Sobuza liked the ANC but not the
Communist Party. So Mabhida went and they had discussions. Sobuza didn’t
expect it to happen to a person he was close to.
His work like that of Nkadimeng was a mixture of SACTU and of SACP work. Like
Mabisela he was also unwanted by the Swazi government after the secret accord between
South Africa and Swaziland, and when King Sobuza died in 1983 his role of staying
permanently in Swaziland was over. From 1982 he was literally based in Maputo.
In Mozambique he didn’t work officially with the ANC. Nkele and Mabhida therefore
did not work from the Office. They worked from Zuma’s home which became the
SACTU and the SACP office. Next to him would be Cde Nkadimeng and Nkele would
sometimes do some secretarial work for him also. Whereas Sue would sit in another room
working for Cde Zuma.
Moses Mabhida’s important position as the secretary general of the Communist Party
took him to many countries. Most of them were in the Eastern Bloc. But there was also
an interesting event when he was invited to address the American Communist Party
Congress.
Nkele: There was a Congress in America, and the Americans refused him a visa
to enter. So Casoil (?) sent a fax saying that he must take a plane. They will be
waiting for him at the airport without a visa. He would come to that congress
without a visa.
This Casoil was the General Secretary of the Communist Party of America. He left.
I mean the suitcases were ready, it was just that the Americans refused the visa.
But when we received the fax, he left. And then he said he would keep me posted.
And he phoned. Every station he arrived at, he phoned to say: I am safe. I am in
such a place, and I understand that when he entered the Conference Hall he
received a standing ovation, because they had to give him a visa at the airport.
Everybody was there waiting. And the big guys from the party. So they got
embarrassed and issued him with a visa.
At the time of the Nkomati Accord everybody was chased away. But they indemnified
his position so that he could stay at least as long as he himself wanted.
Nkele: He was a very amazing man. He was there as SACTU or as Communist
Party. So we were able to remain behind. We stayed in Maputo until it was
becoming tough. And they said: The Boers are pressurising. During that pressure,
he asked me, what do I think about this? Where should he go? Because it would
not be OK if we go to Lusaka or any other places. It is too far. It is too far from the
people at home. And I said to him: Why don’t you try Lesotho? We would be in the
centre of everything. And he went to Lesotho and he spoke to the Lesotho people,
but they said, No, it is too risky. They don’t have enough security to guard him.
And they don’t want to take responsibility if anything happens. And they would be
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so ashamed. So he came back. He told me, they said it is going to be difficult for
security. And it is even worse now because of the Nkomati. They are weak. Early
1985 we really had to go back to Lusaka. So we stayed in Lusaka from 1985.
But Cde Mabhida was getting old. The first signs of his illness appeared when he was
attending the 6th Congress of the South African Communist Party in Moscow. He stayed
behind in Moscow for treatment. Then came back shortly just to change the clothes in the
suitcase and flew to Cuba. He flew to Cuba to attend the Cuban Communist Party
Congress.
Nkele: That is where he collapsed and suffered a severe stroke. He was taken to
hospital. He lost his memory but he survived. His hand began to move and you
knew he was recovering. The memory was very bad. He would only communicate
in English, and even he would be choosing words, but you could get what he was
talking about.
So The President, O.R. Tambo, called me and said, if it was OK, he would like me
to go to Cuba to assist Mabhida with his speech. He would probably recover
quicker. So I prepared and went. I was pregnant then with Thando. I went to Cuba.
I stayed there with him for three months. They put me in the same ward, for a few
days in hospital and after that we would move to a nearby guest house. Nice guest
house. We stayed there.
In Havana. It was very nice. But he was getting anxious. Because he wanted to
recover and come back. And the Cubans were not saying anything at the time. I
realised that his condition is deteriorating, so I checked on the telephone directory,
the Cuban directory. I checked for the Soviet Embassy. I found them. I told them, I
am so and so, and I am with the General Secretary there, and he is not well. He
wants to proceed to the Soviet Union.
I was seven months pregnant and they don’t advise me to fly. I have to get my
child in Cuba. I just kept quiet. No, that’s fine. I am just going to stay.
They came after two days to take us to the airport. And we left.
I left too. I didn’t tell the doctors. I think they were surprised when they went to
check that I was gone. And he was feeling much better. When we were in the
plane, I saw him smile, and I said, Jesus Christ, I didn’t know you were in this pain,
I think you are going to be better now. And he said: Ya. And then I flew with him to
Moscow. I stayed in Moscow for a month, and I got ill myself. I was not feeling all
right. I was staying at the hotel, but after some time they took me to the hospital. I
had pains.
So Nkele decided to travel back to Lusaka to be with Master for the birth and Cde
Mabhida stayed for another two and a half months.
Nkele: So he came back. By the time he came back he was still not completely
recovered. And it was like that. Everybody was waiting for him. They flocked in the
house and said they need him. And I said: No. He is not all right. Please, don’t
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bother him. But they said, we have been waiting for him, and he is back, and we
want to discuss, if he is able to bring us together...
So he went to the meetings, but it was difficult. Each time he came back, he
wouldn’t even talk properly. And I said, this was not right. Comrade Zuma was in
Lusaka himself. So I went to him and I said, I am worried. Comrade Mabida is not
OK, and these meetings that he attends I have been trying to refuse him. He must
go back to Maputo and just rest there. Because there is no activity. You don’t have
to sit on any committee, you know these staff members. So he is not going to be
very busy. He said OK, I’ll talk to the President. And indeed, he did. And then he
came back to say, it has been approved. And he said to me to make arrangements
for the tickets, but I couldn’t go with him because the baby was still small.
From Lusaka Nkele managed to prevent that he go to attend another Conference
in the USSR, but had to fight very hard with the leadership.
Nkele: That week he passed away... And it was so difficult...
after... Mabida’s funeral... I was asked where do I want to work... and I was told by
Cde Slovo... then I told him that I wanted to go back to Maputo. One of the reasons
is that I want to be around for the old man, I would get the opportunity even to see
to his grave. He was shocked, and he didn’t know what to say. I said, that is what I
want. Can you make arrangements. Cde Slovo called me to say that the SG’s
office needed my services. And I said, no. I don’t want to be part of the structures
in Lusaka. I told him that I wanted to work in Maputo. And that is where I went to
work.
Nkele had been the devoted daughter all through his illness. She didn’t make it for when
he passed away. But she was there for his funeral. And she was there to look after his
grave and his memory after he passed away.
The grave where we all went to pay our last respects and where we held a ceremony
worthy of Frelimo and worthy of the ANC was situated not along with the other 18
graves containing the ANC comrades killed in Maputo. It was situated at the Centre of
the big Lhanguene Cemetery together with the highest Mozambican leaders.
Unfortunately not Nkele not anybody else has been able to get his name on the grave.
Only the eye that knows can see that under this big and beautiful stone lies one of the
front figures of the South African liberation struggle. No name. No words. Just the stone.
And only the mind that knows can see that under this big and beautiful stone lies the
Nkomati Agreement and the split between Frelimo and the ANC.
The South African regime had the mind that knew. And the pressure against the ANC and
Mozambique had to be increased. The attempt of creating a new Nkomati was on its way.
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Mabhida was not to lie for long in his tomb before he was accompanied by somebody
ever bigger than himself.
The world was beginning to be conscious of the problems in the Southern Africa. On
May 19 1986 the Commonwealth Eminent People’s Group was in the middle of a key
mission to the region, when the South African Defence Force crashed across the borders
of Zambia, Zimbabwe, and Botswana against ANC targets. Shortly thereafter, an SADF
hit team struck ANC targets in Swaziland, and commandos attacked Soviet and Cuban
shipping in the southern Angolan port of Namibia. The Commonwealth EPG promptly
called off its mediation exercise
The MNR activities in Tete, Zambezia and Sofala were at their highest. The MNR have
their bases in Malawi from where they and the South African commandos enter
Mozambique. Samora Machel travelled to Malawi and to Zambia to try and solve the
problem.
On the return of one of his trips to solve the problem which has now reached its
culmination and crisis point, Samora Machel's plane is deviated by false beacons. The
pilots think they are landing in Maputo airport. No lights on the landing strip. The pilot
discovers too late that he is not over Maputo but has passed the South African border
when he crashes at Mbuzini . 19th of October 1986. A date we shall never forget. His
plane crushes and he is killed together with his delegation consisting of 19 people of
whom is also the Director of the Centre of African Studies, Aquino de Bragança.
The South Africans are surprisingly fast on the spot of the accident.
In an heart braking broadcast Marcelino dos Santos informs the Nation.
A week later Chissano is elected president.
Mocambique - and the world - is in shock.
Each of us will for ever remember where we were at that particular moment when we
heard of the tragedy. You could ask any Mozambican, any Southern Africa what he or
she was doing at that precise moment, and they would know where they were. I shall till
my death remember how I had flown into Harare being received by this wonderful carpet
of violet jacaranda which covered the city just at that time. It made me all happy and
positive. When I came to the Harare office of the organisation I was working for
everybody was glued in front of the television. I couldn’t believe it when they told me
what had happened. I rushed to check whether they were joking, but there on the
television the first attempts of explaining what had happened were coming in. I tried to
find out that there must be some error. I just could not believe it. I went to the telephone
to get hold of my family in Maputo, the operator said to me: Did you want Maputo? Yes,
please quickly. Are you from there? Yes, please get me the call. ‘I am so sorry for you.
Please receive my condolence for you and your people’, she said. She knew why I was
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phoning home. I was utterly touched. No empty professional words. A human sympathy
in a shattered voice from the Zimbabwean telephone operator. I shall never forget her.’
When I came home to Maputo the next day everybody was in shock.
Samora was lying on lit de parade. The others also. In a long row with their relatives
passing by. All of us passing by. In the ground floor of the building of the Assembleia
Popular, the Moçambican Parliament.
Then the funeral of the 18. They were buried where we had just buried Mabhida seven
months later. Full of respect. Full of dignity. We tried to keep our tears back. In an
attempt of honouring them. The sadness was just overwhelming. 19 coffins were sunk
into the ground and each of us with a handful of soil sent them to their last resting place.
Organised, quietly, unable to talk.
Samora was to be buried at the Heroes’ Square. All of us in the ANC were standing
around the Praza waiting with the dignitaries of the whole world. An extraordinary and
perfect arrangement where everyone in that poor country did their level best to assure the
finest of the finest. From hotels to cars to flowers to food to decorations. Was it possible.
Yes it was. This country where you got used to living under sometimes chaotic condition
with power cuts and no water or sanitation, broken water pipes, without toilet paper or
soap, no garbage collection, no food except watercress. All of a sudden this country
managed to host guests pouring in from all over the world and got everything to function.
It was raining, silent and constant rain during the deposition of his coffin in the Centre of
the Square. Next to Eduardo Mondlane who started the Mozambican Liberation Struggle.
Also killed and after Independence brought from Dar es Salaam to Mozambique. This
was the occasion when I learned that rain is the symbol of a heroes burial. A king’s
burial. According to the tradition in this part of the country. And people nodded their
heads in satisfaction: Of course it was raining on this occasion.
Then came the long discussions to find out who was behind the murder. The truth is not
out yet. Over fifteen years later. I have the certainty, however, that the truth is known by
Graça and a few others. The timing of when we will get to know, is a different matter.
More and more people criticised the Reagan Administration for not taking action in
persuading the South African government to revise their policy of destabilization in the
neighbouring countries. But RENAMO was becoming very influential also on the
diplomatic level and demanded that Reagan abandon the aid to the struggling Maputo
regime and help RENAMO as ‘freedom fighters’ under the Reagan Doctrine. In 1986,
RENAMO had set up shop with an office in the Heritage Foundation, a conservative
think tank conveniently located on Capitol Hill. RENAMO's external representatives
churned out manifestos on democracy, Christianity, and capitalism and developed data
and arguments to suggest that RENAMO was winning. In Chester Crocker’s words
from his book "Darkness at Noon"
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Conservative Republicans viewed Africa as elephant country—a place to hunt for
anti-communist trophies to hang on the wall.
The US had never in its history had a serious national discussion about any aspect of
African policy. Debate and dialogue about African issues had previously occurred at the
margins of the foreign policy process, among experts (Africanists) and a familiar band of
corporate, religious, foundation, and media enthusiasts, plus activists on the fringes of
their respective parties. And yet 12% of the American people trace their ancestry to
African shores.
It is at this time that the whole sanctions debate becomes paramount in the US like in
Europe. Some of the roughly 350 American firms involved were starting to pull out
although the government was urging US firms to hang on well after many of them had
decided to leave.
The first concrete proposal for political settlement was the above mentioned shuttle
diplomacy made by the EPG and brutally stopped when Pretoria attacked targets in
Lusaka, Hararare and Gabarone on the 19th of May.
In October 1986, Gorbachev and Reagan met in Reykjavik and in January 1987
Gorbachev indicated to an ANC delegation led by Johnny Makatini, Head of the
International Department that the USA and the UK had become ‘resigned to the reality’
with regards to the ANC, but he was convinced they had a ‘hidden agenda’, to promote
the ‘Natal option’—Buthelezi—and to support the so-called Genscher initiative to
convene a conference on SA of the Lancaster House type.
At the same time as the big International powers were beginning to move tactics and
alliances it also seemed that the position of the ANC in Africa was improving, the Front
Line States were showing bigger commitment. Mugabe informed Gorbachev in June 87
that Zimbabwe had started facilitating Umkhonto crossing into SA. The Tanzanians again
opened some military facilities for the ANC. And as we know Mozambique’s attitude
towards the ANC since the funeral of Mabhida had also improved.
What exactly did that mean in terms of South Africa?
The opposite of course. The South African regime now toughened up on Mozambique
and her support to the ANC. They had understood the message of Mabhida’s state
funeral. They had understood that the ANC was again welcome in the country. And the
ANC had to pay. The ten people who had been allowed to form an office and to remain
after the others were sent out at Nkomati in 1984 had been through a tough time since.
The Pioneers have talked about how they had to choose a different way to school every
day and how they always had to move house in the night. Internal was bombed. The
ANC comrades had moved out in time, but one Mozambican caretaker Joao insisted on
staying and was killed.
Zuma had for the first time accepted to have a guard in front of his house.
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Sue: During that period there were the kidnappings in Swaziland. A Swiss couple
was kidnapped. Grace Cele was kidnapped. The whole structure came tumbling
down. Huge, successful infrastructure in Swaziland. E. B. was kidnapped and
tortured.
It all got disastrous on that side.
But just before, when everybody was being kidnapped in Swaziland, we knew that
we were in terrible danger also in Maputo. I went up to Zuma’s flat one Sunday
morning to hand in something. Zuma gave me a lift down Nyerere to my flat.
Driving in his car, we passed some people in the middle of the road and I asked,
why are they there? I don’t know, do they want to get killed? Sunday lunch time.
As we drove up towards them, we saw that they had huge cameras, telephoto
lenses. I was quite sure these people were photographing us. We wanted to follow
them, but it was the time of the petrol shortage, and we had no more in the tank.
We took down their registration number and gave it to Farouk, and Farouk traced it
down with SNASP to a house in Praya that was owned by that pilot that defected,
da Costa or Bomba. Waw, the enemy is here. So everybody, Williams, Lennox,
Peter Boroke insisted that I must send the children away. I resisted and resisted.
At one stage the children were sleeping every night with Bernadette. I used to feed
them, wash them, put them in their pyjamas, and walk them to Bernadette’s. Every
night. And they hated it. But I knew they were in terrible, terrible danger.
I sent off the children, in a matter of 24 hours. I telephoned my mother and said
that I was sending the children off, and that I would be following. They are in
danger here. I got them on the first plane out. The first plane is to Lusaka and
connected them up with British Airways from Lusaka to London. I told the kids, I
am coming, just go. They were sulking. I asked the political machinery in Lusaka to
pick them up, which they did. And I told them, you have got British passports. Any
problem, and you get yourselves to the British Embassy. They got on the plane.
And they were very miserable.
Within hours of the children having left, Zuma noticed that his flat was seriously
being watched. For the first time in eight years, Zuma allowed them to put security
guards in front of the flat. And then they noticed that all the ANC places were being
watched. Zuma was very, very clever, he said: We must take over the city, that is
how we are going to get rid of them. Every MK comrade was put on a rota, every
single one of them, and they drove around the city. The ANC reclaimed it. From 10
o’clock at night to 7.30 o’clock in the morning the comrades were controlling the
streets. The streets were divided up. Everybody fully armed. Who was around.
Who was not around. To check all the residences. There were about four cars
going around every night.
Tommy and Zola had survived Nkomati. After finishing his studies of Economics as the
only of the ANC students who made it to the end Tommy got a job with the Mozambican
Cashew Secretariat and was therefore was not sent out of the country. He also remembers
this period of the ANC confrontation:
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Tommy: There was a time when Cde Zuma, Indres, Keith, Bobby and others were
being told to leave.
What had happened was that Cde Zuma and the unit that was here issued a
communiqué that this thing of running away from home when we have intelligence
information that the Boers are going to attack should cease. We should confront
them, because running away, we are vulnerable in our own houses, so there was
the so-called zone area defence. It was a big meeting were everybody was called.
Zoning. Comrades staying around the Coop had their own commander and their
own structure, comrades living in Alto Mae, and what have you. We had to work in
teams and we had shifts. We were in the Alto Mae Unit with Nkalitshe, Kenny,
Nduduze and other comrades around there, and Farouk.
One night we were driving around midnight this ANC car. We had gone to Kenny’s
place area. As we were driving out... slowly... we were driving a Mazda 323 Blue,
as we are driving out to join the main street that goes to Xipamanine Market, there
was a police traffic officer with all the lights. I should think he has been watching
us. We had an AK 47. We had grenades with us. I was driving. Zola was on the
passenger side. So there was this AK 47, but it was easy to hide.
It was after midnight. When we saw this, Zola said: vouw, we are in problem now.
This man is going to search the car. He will find the gun. We were dressed in huge
jackets. You can hide it under your armpit. The policeman came, slowly. We could
see he was ready for anything that we were going to do. He came to the car,
opened the window. He said: What are you guys doing? We said: No, we have just
gone to a family friend in that house. Which was a reality. It was an ANC house.
He said: Why are you driving at night? We said: No, we had gone to check,
because we are not sure whether he had reached home from the meeting that we
had. He was very, very suspicious. We sat there for some time.
We are in the car. We are sitting in the car. He looked at us and he says: OK, you
go. Now, here we are. We are in a dilemma. We will go, but we are supposed to
come back again, because it was not the time of the cellular phones. It’s either we
go to the house and say: Hey, we have been interrupted. So we drove out slowly
and he drove off slowly. And we also drove slowly and followed. When we saw he
had gone we just continued driving at a slow pace, and then we went to check the
other houses. Fortunately it was towards the end of our time. We went back, and
we told the comrades that Jesus, this is what has happened so that they could be
careful.
What I must say about this is that the instruction in which we worked was that we
took the initiative. I should think at the same time it would have been suicidal,
because if you had met South African commandos what would you have done? I
don’t think we would have been a force, because we could have been a deterrent,
but we didn’t have a form of communication that we are under attack. They could
have killed us. We could have been shot.
But they could have been surprised also. We would certainly have taken them by
surprise. And that in itself was what Zuma wanted. Zuma said: Let us send the
message to indicate that we are also on patrol. That was the psychological effect. .
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We had survived Nkomati and resurrected at Mabhida’s funeral.
We were still mourning Samora’s death.
Sue: Then came the letter. We knew that the game was up. O.R. flew in. Met by
Chissano. Chissano just gave him the letter and said, it is up to you. We are with
you. You decide. Chissano had just taken over. So O.R. decided to leave.
In December 1986 Chissano informed the ANC that Pretoria had demanded the
deportation of the ten ANC office staff in Maputo that had been allowed to work there
since the Nkomati agreement including Zuma, Indres, Sue, Bobby, Keith.
It was like another Nkomati. In fact, it was called the mini-Nkomati. In January 1987 the
people from the office left. This time we had a big party sending them off, with
Mozambican leadership present who praised the comrades who were leaving and in
particular Cde Zuma for his importance in the struggle. Genuine words about our
common cause and the beginning of a new era in sight.
One week to do all the packing of files, selling cars, locking up the underground, getting
secret material away. Sue talks with gratefulness about a comrade who just stood by her
and did all the little things and the big ones to make it possible. He even ended up
polishing the tiles of her bathroom with shoepolish, ‘the township way’ for it to look
new.
A new office structure was set up with Sipho Dlamini, who had been a researcher at the
Centre of African Studies was for a time chosen as the ANC chief representative. Herbert
Thabo became his vice, and then after some time, the chief rep. when Sippho left. Nkele
became the administrative officer, Zola became logistics officer, Mhlope, Sidney,
George, Monde, Teddy and a few others were now forming the office core. (Paul
Moodley from 89)
It was during this period that September was caught (August 1986) and that Cassius
Make and Paul Dikeledi were killed (February 1987).
Only long time afterwards did the ANC find out what happened.
And they found out that also Gab’s work inside the country and the unit he had set up got
destroyed.
In Sue’s words:
That is when Joy Harnden came into the picture. She came up with Sheila
Weinberg. Sheila came to meet her mother, Violet Weinberg who was living in
Tanzania with her husband, Eli Weinberg, the photographer. Nobody knew this
woman at that stage. She was a friend of Sheila’s who was staying with her. She
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had infiltrated JODAC. The white left. This girl was an enemy agent. They (our
security) were on to her and somebody had reported her, and put the report in a
drawer in Lusaka. She started off with Indres. She wanted to join the underground.
Everybody that she was approaching came to me. I was now on the RPMC,
representing the political machinery. They met. She wanted to do work for the
ANC. She wrote a biography. In the first line she said that her mother worked in
the Department of Defence. I said to Zuma that she was working with the other
side. But Zuma said no, we are going to recruit her to the military. Zuma ever
hopeful. She was given minor tasks, and she was hooked up with Gab, and it was
she who infiltrated that unit which eventually led to his disappearance. If Gab had
followed the rules of MCW it would have just been him that was gone, but because
he broke all the rules, she met quite a number of comrades inside. She went back,
having been in Maputo, and said that is what she was made to do, and within five
minutes there was a letter from P.W.Botha to Chissano saying that the ANC was
still operating in Mozambique. Here are their names. You get rid of them, or we are
going to attack. 1986. Joy came up in 1985 (April- May). In June- July I had taken
Gab to London to get his feet fixed, and in August-September he was put back into
the country. He hooked up with her around September-October. In February he
disappeared.
Sue does not know what happened. She and others were trying to get it up in the TRC,
but ‘funnily’ enough the authorities kept on losing the documents. Gab’s family and
friends gave all that evidence. Gave all the names. Sue was involved up to her eyeballs
trying to get this woman trapped down. She has done affidavits, reports, reports to the
police. Everything got lost. All the time got lost. But Sue knows she will get to it.
John Daniel has been able to give more information on Gab’s case.
It has been very much researched. Joy Harnden is the female equivalent to Craig
Williamson who was able to infiltrate all the white progressive circles She was captured
in Angola and recruited. Then she married the person who recruited her and left with him
for Glasgow but later returned to South Africa where she worked as a journalist under her
real name Ronel Botha. She was at the time working at the World Council of Churches in
Johannesburg. She has admitted to having seen him the day he was killed, but she didn’t
do it. She had an appointment with Gab in her office. After the meeting she took him to
the door and claims that she knew nothing after that moment. She must have informed
her people to kill him, but since they didn’t know what he looked like, she appeared with
him so that they could see him. And do their job.
In their book ‘Unfinished Business—South Africa Apartheid and Truth’ Terry Bell and
Dumisa Buhle Nysebeza tell the story of Gab Ignacius Mathebula and how Joy Harnden
was infiltrated into his unit. They both disappeared without trace. And the book, like Sue,
wonders why did the TRC not follow up on this case? Why was she not subpoenaed?
Why did the police not inform the ANC—and the TRC—that she changed her name
again to Sandra Patterson? Why did they fail to inform the ANC—and the TRC—that she
had married a South African diplomat?
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One of the weaknesses of the ANC as we can see from this fatal event was their lack of
consciousness in regard to security. It has been mentioned again and again.
One of the strengths of the ANC was that it was always able to find people’s capacities.
To assess where people could make the fullest contribution, and who were these people
who could and would.
Alma Vali was not political at all when she lived in Durban busy bringing up her two
children, sewing to make ends meet for them to go to school. She was not only surviving
on her sewing. She is one of those for whom sewing is an art. The material will dictate to
her how she should handle it and she would produce beautiful pieces. And the ladies in
the neighbourhood in Durban where she used to live, knew about her art.
Her daughter Saeeda and son-in-law, Indres Naidoo left the country and soon after Alma
followed them to Maputo. That is how she was thrown into politics. It was December
1981 and Indres and Saeeda lived in the beautiful little house in Rua Dar es Salaam. She
still remembers her debut as an ANC comrade. How for the first time she met Oliver
Tambo.
Alma: First time I met Oliver Tambo was when he came to Indres’ house to
address a press- conference. It was during the time when Indres was just off his
head. He knew Tambo was coming to the house to hold this conference or this
meeting. And he beggared off with the keys. Locked the doors and went off with
the keys. And I was there in the house, just the backdoor open, and...here...
Tambo’s ....bodyguards all came running around: ‘where is the key’ ‘we’ve got to
get it. The president is coming and the house is locked’. So I said ‘What can we
do?’ And they went to town with me. And I said: ‘He will really just have to come in
through the backdoor, there is no other way. So he came in through the kitchen
and there were about four bodyguards. They were standing like soldiers glaring at
me, and Tambo had this meeting with the journalists.
Indres didn’t come at all. And I was shivering, because of this disgraceful thing of
letting the president crawl in through the kitchen. So when he had finished with the
meeting, I went to him, shook hands with him and said ‘I am ever so sorry that you
had to come in the back door’. He said: ‘My child, all my life I have been walking in
and out of back doors. Don’t worry.
Alma soon found her ways around Maputo. She met Pamela dos Santos through Indres,
and Pamela introduced her to Ambassadors’ wives and to the wives of Frelimo
leadership. She came in demand as the highly qualified sewing mistress artist she was at a
time where you could not buy a decent dress in Maputo. These wives would get their
material from abroad and ask her to sew it. She had found her place.
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Shaeeda’s marriage was not working, and after a very dramatic period, that we all
followed closely in the Maputo, which as regard to rumours and jealousies and family
squabbles was smaller than a provincial town, Sue tried to persuade Alma to intervene,
but Alma said that she had never thought that the marriage would function, the day
Saeeda found out that her husband was not a political hero, but a man. I didn’t stop her
from marrying him. I am not stopping her from divorcing him. Eventually it was Pamela
who one Saturday morning rolled up in her car in front of their door and told Indres that
she was going to the market with Saeeda. In the meantime she had arranged for some
friends to house her and she had ordered Saeeda to tell the school that she was going to
be ill for the next week. That was the end of that marriage.
Saeeda managed to get a flat which she was entitled to through her school, and Alma,
Bram and Saeeda moved into the flat on a ninth floor on a small road next to Av 24 de
Julho. Soon after Saeeda left the country. I remember clearly that she said goodbye on the
day that Dan and Odette got married. She said goodbye, not only to all of us, but also to
her son, Bram. Who knew when they were going to meet again.
And Alma would go on sewing, when she was not cleaning her house, doing yoga or
attending to the politics of the ANC where she soon became a central figure. In a very
discrete way. Her house was not only used as a safe house, but with her skills as a
magnificent cook and party organiser, Zuma soon discovered how easy it was to organise
small and big parties in her flat. When the leadership came to Maputo, they would very
often have meals at Alma’s place. And she became active in the ANC community life.
Alma: I was fully fledged now in the Women’s’ League. There was one time when
they even elected me as vice-president of the Women’s’ Section. But then I got
sick. I had to go away. And I didn’t hold that post.
But I got involved. When there were funerals I was the one preparing meals for
funerals. When there were weddings, like Tommy and Zola. I was sewing wedding
frocks. And then the birthdays. Who was the chap who was also killed there in
Maputo? Gideon.. His twenty-first birthday. I made a big wedding cake. And that
other one,Sippho, our chief-rep. When he got married to Jane, I baked their
wedding cake. And that other woman’s daughter that got married down there by
the beach. Sarah.
And for Zuma’s wife, Kate, too, before she was his wife, I remember sewing her a
dress. She was going to.....Portugal. Cuba. She wanted a special quick dress I
made. And then I got involved with the first Secretary of the Soviet Embassy.
Valentina, Valentine. Petrov She was such a close friend of mine.
And to their house I used to go with al the senior people. I went there with Tswete,
Steve Tswete. I went with Mac Maharaj. I went for dinners. They used to invite us
for dinners. And I used to take the ANC, whoever was visiting from Lusaka. We
would go and have supper there. I went with Rachid Baker another time. Oh so
many people.
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Meantime all this time I was living on my sewing. I wasn’t getting any supply or
money from the ANC.
And I used to get these chaps from Swaziland. Chaps coming and going into the
country. To do their things.
So when she was not organising the parties and getting people to meet, she was the one
taking them to functions. An important and very discrete role. Until she got ill.
She was also the only person who was allowed to bring food to Albie, when in 1988 he
got hit by the bomb and lost his arm. He was not allowed to eat the food at the hospital
for fear of poison, so every day Alma would bring him what he needed to eat.
One day George Povey, the Canadian doctor who often helped the ANC comrades and
Indres came to see her. She had had a test done by Povey and they looked terribly
serious. Cancer. She laughed at their seriousness. Cancer is just another disease. And she
was sent to Berlin for treatment. She was laughing and brave, but I still remember with
horror how long time it actually took for the bureaucracy to get her sent to Berlin. If she
hadn’t been a close friend of Joe Slovo’s, I wonder how long it might have taken. And
one knew the importance of an early diagnosis and an immediate treatment.
In t he GDR they started giving her radiation. She was very well treated and said she felt
she was on holiday in the GDR. She came back to Maputo. At first she felt alright, but
Povey told her to be careful. Cancer has it strange ways. And rightly so, one day, in the
shower, she got a black out. She tried to go next door to the neighbours to phone to Indres
and Celia, but hardly made it. That is when everybody got anxious. Eventually they sent
her to Moscow for further treatment. And again she felt better. Had her own VIP room.
Was treated very well. Enjoyed her stay. She heard that one of the three survivors of the
air crash where Samora was killed, was treated at the hospital and went to see him. And
the ANC students in Moscow, when they heard that there was another South African at
the hospital came to see her and treated her like a mother. Together they would see the
films that they had never been allowed to see inside the country. And of course her good
old friends, Valentina and Valentine came to see her, brought her soup, gave her a treat.
Although she was ill, there was no end to the services she did.
Alma: At Mabhida’s funeral I will tell you how I worked. I was sick at the time. It
was after the operation. I was leaving the next morning on the day of his funeral.
But late that night Indres came around with some pieces of flag to sew for his
coffin. That is the only contribution I made for this man. When he had a Memorial.
It was then, after a year or so, we all went there standing as ANC, for this man’s
grave. And I am damned if Alpheus doesn’t come with that huge wreath and gives
to me, I have to put this wreath on the coffin, grave. I don’t know where the hell to
put that wreath. What to do there. Where must I put it, ahead of the grave? at the
bottom of the grave? On the side? What? And it is a huge one, you know. I think
Alpheus poked me from the back. It was time to put it. And I went to the grave, and
I put it at the bottom. I don’t know whether it was supposed to be like that. Oh.
Lord.
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Or when she did her big patriotic duty. The for posterity famous story about Alma sewing
uniforms (also told in Helena Dolny’s book on Joe Slovo)
Alma: That was Joe (Slovo). It was before I went to Berlin. Must be 85...
Very secretive. Nobody must know. Indres wasn’t supposed to know. Joe brought
me the material, and then he dropped me a suit. Had to be identical, so that the
difference mustn’t be seen from the real thing.
The suit he brought me was those khaki suits, The South African Military Suit. Shirt
and pants. With patch pockets here (beats her chest) and buttons. Now I have to
sew these things. And whenever a Pamela dos Santos or any customer came I
would shovel that thing under my table. And the material was tough. And then that
is when I got sick..
I was supposed to make three dozens. I had done a few and I got sick. When I
came back, Celia had taken all that material to cover sofas and chairs. (laughs)
Anyway but I did carry on when I came back... Joe brought more stuff and then this
chap would come and collect it.... Mathews? When he came and collected it and
when I said I wanted money, he said No. This is for the Revolution. And I said:
what the hell am I supposed to live on? The time that I have spent doing these
things is time when I should have been making money for myself. He eventually
gave me about ten rands.
Mathews used to bring me the material and Keith used to come for the ready made
things
But the very best story which will tell that Alma was not only doing sewing and house
keeping jobs was the time she was doing military training together with Rob Davies and
Alpheus in a flat in Maputo. It was after the incident with Albie, the ANC thought that
the next persons to be targeted could be Rob, Alpheus and Alma and they decided that
they needed to be able to protect themselves.
Alma: Lucky, it was before I had my operation, because you had to crawl on your
stomach, belly crawling, they teach you how to lie down, and your feet flat and
your arms. No elbow sticking out. How to aim. How to fire. How to load and unload
a gun. How to oil it. And the first ones we used were the...what are these...A.K.s
and then we used a Mokorov, and then we were trained on the Scorpion. I kept
saying: Please, can’t we do it at the beach or somewhere? I want to hear the
sound of the bullets when it comes out.
What I enjoyed was the loading and unloading these weapons. They time you, how
long you are going to take. (With her mouth she imitates the loading and opening
of the gun). And we learned to dismantle it, oil it. And put it together. But I always
beat these two comrades, Alpheus and Rob. I managed to get mine put together
long time before they still battling with their stiff fingers. My fingers were thin and
used to the sewing.
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And the guy who taught us had come in to Maputo. He wasn’t based in Maputo.
I don’t know whether he was training any other group. This was supposed to be
the most secret. Nobody but us knew about it, and the rep and the trainer.
And the rep was Kingsley.
But one day I was oiling my sewing machine, I thought uh god I haven’t oiled that
thing, I haven’t handled it, ‘cause you have to keep manipulating it, so I took it out,
and I sat on my bed, tried to load it. It jammed. And I remembered the time before
they gave us these, one of the weapons also jammed, and they were telling us
how to deal with it. And this thing of mine jammed. And I kept trying to load it with
the bullets and how, it was jamming, and then you’ve got to make sure that it is
empty when you put it, and I did. And suddenly BAANG, BAANG. The sound in my
ear! There were splinters falling. The bullet hit the wall that side and ricocheted on
to the sofa. Hiii. The noise. I thought my good god
This was in the morning. About eight o'clock or so. This is supposed to be a secret
thing. What now (she whispers excitedly).HJIIV. The people must all have heard it.
I crawled slowly to the veranda to see… I thought I would find all the heads out
waiting to see. I didn't see a soul. Eih, and I was scared. I didn't want to tell a soul,
but I counldn't hide it, and I did eventually tell somebody. I told Alpheus. I got such
a dressing down.
A very ordinary sewing mistress. Alma. A very special sewing mistress. And the ANC
knew just how to get the best out of her.
The same goes for Isabel. A very ordinary sewing mistress. A very special sewing
mistress.
She was born in Alexander Township and her father was Sebande. Twelve brothers and
sisters. Six died. Grew up in a shack after having moved to Potchefstrom.
She met a Mozambican man who had arrived in South Africa in 1947 and never really
went back again to Mozambique except for visits. He was an undertaker with his own
business when they moved together in 1959. They went to Mozambique to get married in
1973 and he left her there, while he went back to South Africa. With her she had her four
children plus his three from another marriage. She moved in with his family in the
canhiço called Belarosa at the time and that is how she had to cope. The husband
promised… but did not come back. Took another woman in South Africa, while the
brother was fending for her. Did not send money.
Her situation was desperate. And the children had to go to school.
She decided to get a job in her old profession as a dress maker.
She had a lot of experience from working as a dress maker in a factory. So at the beginning she worked
from home and sold her things with the help of a friend. Eventually through the friend she actually
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managed to get a job with a Portuguese woman who supplied John Ors and Katmandou and other small
places.
Isabel: She was actually very excited when she saw me. We could not
communicate. But I would show her a pair of scissors and just indicate to her with
sign language that I can do this and I can do that. And she said: wait for my
husband. Becuase her husband was Portuguese, but he could speak a little bit of
English also. So we communicated through the husband most of the time if we had
something serious to communicate about. And when I showed her the scissors,
she gave me a pattern of some blouses which had to be done. I cut those blouses.
The following day I sewed twelve blouses and I finished them because I was used
to production. She was shocked. She said: Is that possible? And I said: yes, it is
possible. I learned how to do production work. So she was very excited. I had the
job and she paid me 35.000 mts a month (laughs) and said: teach the others.
That was a lot of money then. Her brother-in-law was working at Protal, a condense
milk factory and earned only 8.000 meticais a month.
Isabel: Life was not so good. They would fetch water on their heads. There were
lots of rats there which were eating the kids’ clothes and food wear. And I said, no I
cannot live like this. I have to do something. When my husband came, I told him,
but he said No, you have to stay here, because I don’t have anything else for you.
And we really had misunderstanding with these people, because they thought I
was strange. Too clever for their liking. I was doing things out of my own. I wasn’t
consulting anyone. When I consulted them they didn’t agree with me. So I started
to make my decisions.
I ended up talking to one guy who was working at the military... of the Portuguese
military... who was the son to a friend. And I said: Please organise me a flat,
because I am in a position to move now. I had been working for two months and I
moved to a flat now.
All this was before Independence, but in 1976 she met Conrade Peggy (Khuzwayo) who
was with the ANC. Isabel had been doing some underground work before she left South
Africa and felt that she too had to make her contribution. She was a South African, and
she asked Peggy to take her to the ANC office off Avenida Mao Tse Tung. And she met
Cde Williams, Cde Zuma and many other comrades.
By now she had moved into a big house in the Coop, and told the ANC that they could
use the house for visitors.
She was now working for herself. The Portuguese lady she had worked for had run away
at Independence and it was now Isabel who took over the supply to John Orrs and
Katmandou, working from home with some of the women.
Besides he sewing she now had a full time job with the ANC catering for all the people
that came by. Frene Ginwala came. Zareena came. She both catered for the short term
visitors and for the more permanent who were usually trained comrades. And she had to
find another place for her sewing team.
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Isabel: I then opened in Namaacha. (laughing). When did we open? When did
Obade and the others die? 1981. That was the time that I opened that. It was
before the Matola attack, because when that attack occurred, I was in Namaacha,
because there was one of the mothers of that cadre, Obade, she and the
delegation with which she came from Johannesburg to bury her son went through
me at Namaacha. They were told to ask for me so that I must tell them where to
go, to get to Maputo where the funeral was to take place. It was a very strategic
place, because we were sewing, doing the selling. It was a place where people
went through. People would go there. They would sleep at that shop. It was right in
Namaacha. At the border gate.
Isabel’s shop in Namaacha became a hiding place for people who crossed the border. She
would go up and down from Maputo, sometimes staying for a couple of days and making
sure that she received the comrades while they were waiting to be fetched by their
contacts.
People like ANC Kumalo, (Ronnie Kasrils) was active. He often crossed the border to
Swaziland and stayed at her shop. Often in company with Cde Zuma.
Isabel: One day something happened when he got over the fence. When they
came in, his foot was swollen. So I asked what has happened here and I brought
water to help. And Cde Zuma had made a joke: you see, Kumalo, it is because you
are a white man, it is why you are so blue (Isabel screams with laughter while
telling the story). If you were black you would not swell up like that.
Unfortunately they had to run away and leave the shop, when the MNR started
kidnapping people and they got the information that they were next.
Isabel is very fond of Cde Zuma because he has authority and he knows how to live out
people’s problems. She tells of an incident when eight trained guerrillas, living in her
house in Coop got angry because there was not enough food for them.
Isabel: One day they were fighting amongst themselves, for each and everything
they thought was worth fighting for. So I thought I must call Zuma. Their
commander was Problem. Edwin. So I went to Edwind’s place, but one of them
said:’ why is this one coming here? You know his name is ‘Problem’. We don’t
want this man here. We want Zuma. We only want to listen to Zuma, because
Zuma will listen to our problems. We want Zuma or Cde Mabhida. I knew that at
that time Zuma was with Nkosazana. And I was reluctant to go there. But they
refused to talk to any of the commanders. Then I went there. Cde Zuma was there.
Others were there. I said: Cde Zuma I have a problem in my house. I would like
you to go there and listen to their grievances, because there is a big fight there.
They say they want to talk to you or Mabhida.
When he came to my place. When he knocked at the door and they saw who was
coming, they sad in zulu: Let us obey the law. They just said like that all of them.
Just to look at him. You could see, a leader now is coming in. And his people are
obeying him. That is how powerful he was. It was not only power. It was the
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goodness in him. Zuma was my boss. I was working directly under him. If he was
not there I would work with Cde Williams.
For Isabel, like for the rest of us, the Nkomati Agreement became very problematic.
There were many important Frelimo people in Bairro da Coop close to where she lived:
the then finance minister Salamão Tomé, and his sister-in-law, the director of Health.
And Salomé Moiane who was the head of the OMM at the time. But these people turned
against her and her house. Worst was Sansão Muthemba, the president of AMAASP (p.
)(The Mozambican Friendship Association), also a neighbour. They had gotten angry
with the ANC for showing off their food, their clothing, their cars to the Mozambicans
who had nothing. After Nkomati the house was searched, and Frelimo carried two trucks
of weapons from her house. There were lots of people watching and the comment was:
Let that woman leave our bairro. The police did not arrest her, but the neighbours were
very annoyed.
It was not only in the neighbourhood that Isabel got unpopular. We, in the ANC, also had
big doubts about her. And the time that followed became a very, very tough time for her.
We saw her having the permission to go in and out of the country, and we became unsure
of which side she was on. What we ordinary ANC did not know was that her husband,
her Mozambican husband in Johannesburg was siding with Renamo. She does not, in this
interview, explain whether the ANC alias Cde Zuma was able to use her as a double
informer, and was able to get information about Renamo to Frelimo through Isabel, but
the close relationship between the two probably also involved the protection and the
information.
Isabel: When I learned that he was with Renamo, I went to Comrade Joe (Slovo)
and said, I have a very serious situation that my husband is with Renamo. I don’t
know what to do. If something happens you mustn’t think that I am selling out.
Frelimo soon found out, and she was called by Boaventura Machel to explain the
situation. She explained that the reason why she was going in and out of Swaziland was
that she went to see her husband. He was her husband after all. Boaventura wanted to
know how she could be ANC at the same time, and she explained that they never talked
politics.
The ANC did not trust her either, they ordered the comrades in her house to leave,
without any explanation to her, but she soon discovered that there were no new comrades
coming to stay at her place in the Coop.
One comrade, Joe Marina eventually told her and told her that she was under constant
surveillance by the Movement
Isabel: Zuma wasn’t there. He was out of the country. And when he was back, I
am sure he was also told about the situation. But he said he spoke to Mabhida.
And Mabhida came to the house. We sat down and talked. And I told him, no,
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there is nothing like that. The situation is this, this and this. Anyway, who are the
people who say so? I will find out. And I will call these people to a meeting. He
went to call Peggy. Peggy Kuzwayo and others. Maud and the group. And that guy
who had a hunch and was poisoned and died, Gibson. He was called in. Mabhida
called a meeting and said: we want people to come with concrete information. We
don’t condemn a person just from hearing. We need concrete information. This is a
people’s movement for all of South Africa. If somebody is a sell out we want proof.
We will deal with that person. But some people are being labelled sell-outs just like
that.
It is so easy. If a person hates you, he will just label you. We want to know how did
you come to the conclusion that this person is a sell out. And they said: I heard it
from this one. And the other would say: This one told me. The last one who told
them was Peggy. My best friend with whom I lived. The comrade I trusted.
Okay, then Mabhida came to the conclusion: This comrade must be reinstated
immediately to the Movement. She must carry on with her work. If she is a sell-out
we will catch her. But right now, don’t victimize someone for nothing, because you
have no proof. But please, this is a People’s Movement. The Movement is fighting
a war against victimization. So you are not doing that here. That is how I survived.
I was grey. I went grey. I didn’t know whether to kill myself. During the three weeks
or so I couldn’t eat I couldn’t sleep. Nothing. It was like a black out. I couldn’t see
nobody in the street. That is the most terrible thing in life. [Her voice trembles].
After that incident Isabel left the country and went back to South Africa.
But around the same time her husband decided to go and see his children in Mozambique.
He was arrested in the airport and taken to jail where he stayed for four years.
Isabel’s explanation is not quite clear. But when he left the prison he had become a priest
and had decided not to have anything to do with politics. She was very angry with him
and his behaviour. They divorced and lived apart. But
Isabel: The ANC signed with the Boers. Everything is in place. What am I sitting
here for? Who is going to get married to me? I am old. This is the man with whom I
was going to live for the rest of my life. What am I going to do now? I consulted
with my family. They brought the priest of the church to my house. The women of
the church came to my house. And he told them exactly what had happened. He
said he had been staying with another woman and he took all these church people
to that woman’s house and said: I told you I had a family. She is my wife. I am
going back to my family. As a priest I cannot have two wives. I must have one wife
and my wife is my first wife with my children. And that is this. And we reconciled
and we stayed together again.
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I mostly asked the interviewees whether they had anything to add, and many times I was
asked not to forget the international community without whom it would have been much
more difficult to operate.
The small town (after all) of Maputo was full to the brim of internationalists who had
come to show their solidarity with the anti colonial struggle and give support to Frelimo
in the attempts to achieve the socialist goals. They were dedicated to the cause. They had
given up their own aspirations at home – for some years at least. They loved all that
Frelimo stood for and hated everything that stood in the way of development and
freedom. They were naïve and idealistic. They were politically correct and they were
hardworking. They certainly gave Mozambique a strong injection of professionalism in a
country where everything had to be recreated with people who did not have any
education.
Many came from the anti imperialism struggle in Europe and many specifically from the
anti apartheid struggle. Many had been very active. And whether it was planned or not,
they were obvious supporters of the ANC cause as well as the Frelimo one. Many were
happy eventually to meet some of the Anti apartheid Heroes and to be close to the reality
of the struggle. Albie (p. ) has already given some examples of how the foreigners were
welcomed and taken into the political activities of Frelimo. They were called
‘cooperantes’. There were many from Scandinavia, from Holland and Belgium, from the
UK, from Italy, Switzerland and Germany and some from Canada and the US.
The degree to which they helped the ANC besides their daily work for Mozambique
differed, but they were a tremendous source of constant solution to the long terms as well
as to the immediate crisis problems.
One of the ‘cooperantes’ was Hans.
He had grown up in the Congo and never really felt like a Belgian always thinking that he
would go back to Africa. His father was in the colonial administration, a bookkeeper. His
mother was a teacher and in the late 50s became part of the colonial syndicates.
Back in Belgium, Hans started studying Portuguese in 1969. The Salazaar fascism was
barely over, and Caetano had just been chosen as the president. When he left to study in
Lisbon for the first time in 1971 for a mere 6 weeks Hans was green in students’ politics,
but soon he was in the middle of the anti-fascist struggle. A friend of his was caught,
drafted and sent to Guinea as a punishment. He was killed on duty, as he himself had
predicted to Hans before being sent. Other students who had been soldiers told him how
they had to take drugs to survive the reality of their lives out there.
In 1974 he witnessed the April coup d’etat of general Spinoza . The Clove Revolution,
and soon after he witnessed the Portuguese returning from the colonies with all their
goods and cars and wooden containers The same which we witnessed in Maputo … from
the other side.
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He also saw the panic of the refugees. And he was reminded of the Congo. The
atmosphere amongst the whites when he and his family left at Independence. Many of
their friends preferred to go to South Africa rather than Belgium. The panic and fear. The
disinformation. It all came back to him.
Hans arrived in Maputo in 1978 where he was to work at the University Eduardo
Mondlane. But he had not been told how and where he was going to lecture. The head of
Faculty, Dr. Araúja took him to his classroom, opened the door and introduced him to....
twelve Chinese who stood up and applauded him. He was completely taken aback with
surprise. They looked at him. They were expecting something from him. What had he
expected? He didn’t know, but surely that his students who were going to be trained as
translators would be Mozambicans. It took him a couple of minutes till he could find the
right expression on his face. He now laughs when he tells the episode. One of those that
you never forget again.
From there on he slowly expanded his knowledge of the University, colleagues, students.
One of the first people he went to see was Aquino de Braganca at the Centre of African
Studies whom he had met in a Conference in Europe. Aquino introduced him to Marc
Wuyts since he was also Belgian, and Marc then shepherded him around and introduce
him to the others, calling Hans a big revolutionary who had done the Revolution
practically in the whole world. He also met David Hedges from the History Department
who had arrived at the same time as him and with whom he was later going to work at
another and more clandestine level.
He had learned his lessons about political behaviour in Portugal and tended to stay away
from big meetings, including ANC meetings, so only after some time did he begin to see
the ANC people. Hans was not from the anti-apartheid circles in Europe so the ANC
contact was a new chapter in his revolutionary life. And when Ruth First arrived, he was
asked to give her private Portuguese lessons. She was not too good and eventually gave it
up, but he had made a contact which became very important for him and for the struggle.
Hans: I remember one evening Joe rings the bell and he is there with this young
Indian chap. ‘This guy has just arrived. He has been to Belgium and therefore "you
have probably got some common friends..." This was Rachid.
At the social level he felt at ease at our house. He would bring some of the ANC
supplies and then he would cook, and he would also say: Do you mind if I invite a
few other people. Like Indres and Mac. I would not say that they were there every
evening, but certainly that is how you become involved with those people and get
to know about them. The problems and frustrations that we know the comrades
had in their personal life and all the frustration and the womanising, you get
involved in that and you want to understand how they function and how they
dysfunction sometimes.
In August Hans’ wife came to join him, and in September they moved into a flat on
Avenida Julius Nyerere. By then he was already quite involved in ANC activities.
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Hans: I very well remember how I arrived for the first time with the car full of
schildpads, Russian type mines and AK47s and ammunition and went to
Swaziland.... No I never got to Swaziland. The car broke down and I had to tow it
back from Namaacha. That is why I remember it so clearly. (laughs)
The next event was equally interesting.
Hans: I had made myself a Mozambican driving license and I started taking driving
lessons with David Hedges, who was a very good instructor and he told me how to
drive. So now I could drive. My wife could drive, and we had this car which we got
as a wedding present. David taught me very well.
This episode in itself was interesting. How he started to drive. But even more
interesting… that is for the ANC… was his capacity to make a driving license. He
seemed to have some experience in those matters:
Hans: What I did was that I got a Congolese driving license from my father, and I
decided this is easy enough, I just have to change the first name, and then I traded
a Congolese driving license for a Mozambican driving license. So I started working
on this Congolese driving license and I changed the photograph and I changed the
first name, and then got a stamp and this kind of things. I had done similar things
in Portugal before. Pretty proud of my work, I get to Marc Wuyts’ place. I still see
him there at this dinner table. Indres is also there. And I say: look I have got my
Congolese driving license. Indres said: It is forged. You forged this (laughs). Then
Indres said: Oh, you can do that kind of things? Would you like to do it for us also?
Indres told it to Joe and to Rachid. So I did a couple of those things ...
The first thing he and his wife got involved with was when the Pretoria three escaped.
Hans: At one stage Joe comes over, and he was really very nervous. He said:
Look, can I ask you for a favour... It was December 79, I think. And we were going
on holidays. ‘Look’, he said, ‘I am desperate. I need a hiding place. Some people
have escaped from prison. They will arrive today or tomorrow here in Mozambique,
and I don’t know where to hide them. Would you mind taking the two of them. So
could you please send your empregada (maid) away and say that you are too busy
packing and that she shouldn’t come for the next days. Could you also make sure
there is enough food.’ They were of course completely bewildered, they had just
crossed the border. I remember I gave the pair of shoes to Alex Mumbari that I had
been wearing when we got married. You know, he sent them back two years
later...! after he had landed in France. We took them to the beach, and they stayed
for some days at our place. And Joe came to talk to them.
Hans and his wife were asked whether they would hide weapons. T & Ts. Bombs.
Grenades.This happened after they had moved to a house in rua da Alegria in 1980,
where their first son was born. The weapons were kept in the attic which as Hans admits
now was Completely irresponsible. On top of their bedroom. Something like 58 AK47s.
But the worst thing was that they kept T & Ts. In Summer Maputo could reach 40
degrees and the stuff was leaking. Two trunks of magnetic mines, the Russians
skildpaddes.
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And yet, between Hans and his wife it was never a question whether or how much they
should involve themselves even after their first child was born. They often did not know
what the other one was doing. He knew that she was a few times in Swaziland with cars.
And for a certain period he was out every night fitting things into the cars. Hans was
involved in preparing the car for Vortrekkers Hoogte which Rachid has described so
vividly.
Rachid moved in with them. He would disappear and jump the fence now and again, and
Hans remembers having gone to look for him when he was arrested in Swaziland.
Hans was very proud of their little Renault Four and managed to fit a lot into the car.
Hans:I was fairly good at finding hiding places. A Renaoult four is a terrific car for
smuggling weapon. Everybody thinks it is too small for this, but you can hide a lot
of things in a Renault four. I fitted it into the hollow under the backseat. And also
the Renault has a metal construction which was hollow inside. It could fit in four or
five of these skilpads. I did this, and I had the back full of mines or whatever you
call them. The point was: It looked all right, but as soon as you tried to sit on the
backseat, you would immediately feel that there was something loaded into there. I
parked at George’s hotel in Manzini. Then Chris (Hani) comes. He came with two
girls. Which I honestly resented. It is not correct. Were they Swazis were they
South Africans? There was no reason to bring the two girls in my presence and
they can see my face. And on top of this, he says, you are going to Mbabane, let
them sit in the back of the car.
(Hans laughs uncomfortably).
I told him to leave the girls and afterwards told him that it was stupid to let the girls
be on. It was a place full of contacts. I had been there before. It was also the place
where I would normally unload the car. It was very bad.
With due respect to one of our most charismatic and committed leaders, Chris behaved in
a very typical ANC way. You could sometimes get completely furious with the lack of
discipline amongst the comrades and how they would expose others just because of
showing off to some girls.
There were also other disagreements. The worst one was in connection with the attack on
the Voortrekkers Hoogte (p. )
Hans: I was furious, absolutely furious with the two of them (Joe Slovo and
Rachid) when my name was exposed in the newspapers in connection with the
Vortrekkers Hoogte. And I demanded an explanation about how it was possible
that my name was connected to this whole operation. How did they get hold of my
name. There was no reason whatsoever for it.
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Hans’ role was to go to South Africa together with his friend, David Hedges. They
pretended they were going to South Africa to buy supplies for the University, tape
recorders and the like.
Hans: We register in the hotel in Pietretief. We register in or own names. Why not.
.... We had bought two cars in Joburg from a second hand car dealer and had
them registered in David’s name and my name and drive them back to Pietretief...It
is not a very busy road. Spent a night in Pietretief and went to Manzini. I believe
we were asked to leave them somewhere with the keys in the engine and
disappear.
So what happened was: the cars were used by people involved in the
Voortrekkerhoogte, and shortly after Voortrekkershooghte one of those guys gets
in a domestic fight with his wife. Threatens his wife with a makorov pistol. His wife
denounces him to the police. They take him in. They see he has a pistol, a
Russian pistol on top of that. They start torturing him. This guy gives away my
name and David’s name. I had never seen the guys in my life. That is the
explanation I got... I am not blaming the guys for giving away the names. But they
couldn’t have given them away if they hadn’t known the names, obviously.
My second son was born on the fifth of February on 82. The story was in the
newspapers on the fifteenth of February 82. On the 14th I had gone to Nelspruit for
Rachid. I do my business there, and I debate with myself should I or shouldn’t I try
to hit the border and drive back to Maputo.—At that time the bandidos armados
were not as bad as later, but still a threat—. Or should I stay in the hotel in
Nelspruit and drive back on the 15th. So I decided that I wanted to go back
knowing that my wife is there with this ten days old baby and with a toddler. I get
home by eight, nine o’clock in the evening. And the first thing that happens is that
they phone me, and there is this lady’s voice saying ‘I am soandso, a reporter of
the Rand Daily Mail, can you confirm that you were involved in the
Voortrekkerhoogte? I made a noise into the phone as if there was a kind of a cut,
and quickly phoned Joe. Hey, Joe, what is going on? The woman got the story
form her lover who was a member of the Special Branch.
This means that I got my name on the wanted list of the border post. Those things
do happen of course, but it meant that it was the last time I openly went to SA.I still
feel that I had a very narrow escape from being caught and probably being sent to
jail like Helene (p. ).
Well those things happen, and we are all human. And if there was one person who
tried to discipline his people exactly to avoid this kind of things, and that is why I
liked working with him, it was Rachid.
This was also an academic issue, and the Vice Chancellor, Fernando Ganhão called them
in lecturing them about not to confuse academic life with other things. But after a little
while he added that they had done exactly the same type of things when they were in
Tanzania. His concern was for the Academics’ safety. Do you still feel safe in the houses
where you live? Do you want to change houses?
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David was not interested and Hans was not either for the time being although he was
aware that their house was exposed
Hans: Afterwards, many years later I saw the police report, I still have copies of it.
When we registered in the hotel in Pieteresretief, my handwriting was better than
David’s. He wrote his mother’s address which was his former address. But they
couldn’t read it. And in my case I gave my official address which is where my
parents were living in Belgium. Then they phoned my brother and asked ‘ where is
Hans’? And my brother said that I was in Mozambique teaching, and he felt very
embarrassed about having given away my address. They published a big
photograph of my parents’ house.
The South Africans asked for Hans’ extradiction. That was obviously refused. He was
called to the Embassy and told them that his activities were none of their business. Later
Koetzee, chief of the South African security police, came on the radio saying that there
were other ways of bringing people to justice, and that is when Rachid suggested to Hans
that he move house. And live close to the presidência. So he and his family moved to
another house.
This was the serious story of Voortrekkers Hoogte, but Hans has a series of others, some
of them very amusing. Here is one:
Hans was supposed to make the hole that other people would then use for a Dead Letter
Box (DLB). He found a good place in a grove and started digging the hole. Then realised
that there were some people watching him. What to do? He quickly pulls down his pants
and his underpants and sat down over the hole and pretends to be using the hole for his
personal toilet. Bravo for a quick reaction!
Hans often makes reference to his colleague, Helene Pasteurs who was a linguist in his
department. She also worked for the ANC, so much that Hans who was head of
department had to criticize her in a formal meeting for not doing her duties at the
University.
The first thing Hans heard over the news when he and his family eventually decided to go
home to Belgium was that Hélène had been picked up by the SA Police. He immediately
together with Marc Wuyts and others started a campaign for her release, and managed
every single day to put an announcement in the newspaper saying that H.P. had now been
so many days in prison in Pretoria. They did it for the whole of the four years she and her
ex partner Klaas de Jonge were under arrest.
Hélène Pasteurs – of Dutch origin, but first married to a Belgian and therefore considered
a Belgian citizen—has written her own biography on the events that led to her being
caught and her four years in prison. She paid a heavy price. And so did her four children.
Her biography is not yet out, but the story around her and her partner, Klaas de Jonge, has
been told several places, amongst others by Connie Braam in her book about the Vula
Operation. We shall therefore not go in details here.
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Unknown to us, Hélène was not only working in solidarity with the ANC but underwent
military training and became a full ‘member’ of the MK. Only when it came to her
children was she not an ANC. They wanted badly to join the Pioneers in their weekly
activities and meetings, but were not allowed. Shame!
The ANC used Hélène for many purposes. And often the correct lines were broken. She
had actually been warned by Joe: It is you and you alone who must draw the lines. There
will be many occasions where we will ask you out of necessity or conveniences to do
things which are not under your responsibilities. Even I will be asking you to do things
outside your field. And you have to be firm and decide whether you want to do them or
not.
Sometimes she followed requests from Rachid, whose Special Ops were under Joe Slovo.
Other times she took orders directly from Joe in his capacity as a leader in the
Revolutionary Council. Other times again she helped the political machineries. And other
times again she went for personal reasons to stay with E.B. in Swaziland when he was
deeply underground. Sometimes this was unavoidable, other times the ANC made very
dangerous short cuts and forgot the principles set by themselves.
She was asked to do reconnaissance in Phalaborwa (just across the border). Her role was
to provide Frelimo with information about the building up of the MNR when they had
been moved from Salisbury to Phalarborwa in 1980 to be trained to infiltrate and
sabotage Mozambique. She was thus working for the ANC in its work for Frelimo.
Helene had moved to Johannesburg to pretend to be studying. That is where she was
caught. A the same time her ex-partner Klaas, was also arrested, but on his way to the
police station he lead them passed the Dutch Embassy where he managed to escape and
take refuge. I don’t remember exactly how many years he stayed there, but I do
remember the big event when he was exchanged against the notorious South African spy
and member of the CCB du Toit who was caught in Cabinda trying to set a bomb in the
oilfields of the Angolan piece of land. The reason why I remember this exchange so
vividly was that it happened in Maputo Airport where Pik Botha in person handed over
Klaas and ‘received’ du Toit. Klaas was then sent home to the Netherlands in a plane.
Although Helene had a very tough time in prison she kept faithful to the Movement so
much that when she was offered to leave the prison and advised by Oliver Tambo to do
so, she refused because others should have been given amnesty before her, others had
family waiting for them. I remember being telephoned by Hans asking for what advice to
give her through her lawyer. It was the time when several leaders were also allowed to
leave under the condition that they deny any violent action in the future. But the one who
‘forced’ her to leave was Oliver Tambo: ‘Since when have you stopped following the
orders I give.’ Hélène wanted other reasons than those of family, but OR declined and
said she had to follow orders.
But only few made such a ‘heroic’ contribution. Most of the friends of the ANC were
doing their bit in silence to forward the struggle.
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David Hedges who is mentioned above together with Hans was one such case who
himself is a fairly silent person, and I remember my own surprise when I met one of the
comrades, Freddy, just outside his flat and realised that he must have been hosted by
David. I didn’t suspect it at all. Was it not for the Voortrekkers Hoogte article no one
would have thought of him as taking direct part.
He was most certainly not the heroic type in the classical sense of the word. But one you
could rely one hundred percent on.
These were the type of people that the ANC loved to work with.
Another such case was a Danish couple. They worked very hard, had two children and
therefore all together didn’t have a lot of time for the big social activities. In their case,
however, this lifestyle also became a necessity indirectly imposed on them by the ANC
because they got a very sensitive job to do for Sue and the political machinery.
Finn and Grethe Tarp had worked for two years in Swaziland, she as an associate
expert in FAO in a seeds project, he as director of Investigation and Planning in the
Ministry of Agriculture. They led a normal apolitical Swazi social life, and their first son
was born here in 1980. They met Sue through some Dutch friends on one of her trips to
Swaziland. Towards the end of their stay, they were offered jobs in Mozambique. Before
he left Denmark Finn had been interested and somewhat involved in antiapartheid work
but they had never been members of any political party, and although Finn had read quite
a bit of marxism he was in no way a communist. Support for oppressed people and
against apartheid was the basis of their human and political commitment.
They settled into a house in Sommerschield not far from Sertorio’s house where their
second son was born in 1984. Grethe working for the seeds control and Finn as an
economist within the Ministry of Agriculture.
Only then after some time did Sue ask them if they were interested in helping in a more
long term basis. They agreed.
They were asked to hide the political archives on ANC’s operational activities,
particularly the material related to the Zuma-Sue work (see p. ). Finn and Grethe
immediately agreed. But the consequence of this commitment was that they had to be
very low key. That was a discrete and quiet agreement. Sometimes it was hard not to take
part when a discussion started about politics – and they were endless at the time.
Finn wonders, now so many years later: Did we exaggerate our cautiousness? But it soon
became a natural thing within a busy life.
Normally Sue was the only real contact to the Movement. They knew that Nadja was part
of the network, and that Helena and Ed were, but basically they knew Helena and Ed
through their children’s nursery, and did not ask any questions. Finn wonders whether Ed
237
and Helena knew about their involvement. Only perhaps at a later stage. The nursery was
also the contact point with Rob Davies and his wife and Judith.
They still had a few people staying with them on rare occasions, one of which was Gab
who stayed as long as two weeks, Otherwise they only got people who would stay for a
few days on their way inside South Africa.
They got on very well with Sue who became a family friend. They found her very lively,
funny. An interesting person so maybe they got more ideas about what was going on than
what they had to miss out on in interaction with others. They got quite a lot of
information from her so that they could get a better picture/understanding of the situation.
There were also VIP people who passed by and had dinner with them. That was exciting.
They continued the work until they left in 1988. When the relationship between the ANC
and Frelimo got strained, their duty of being totally silent about the archives became even
more important.
All Finn knows about the archives was that they were taken away. Probably in 1987 after
Sue was forced to leave. As far as he knows only Sue had access to the archives. She
came and worked in the house. What would have happened if Sue got killed, he does not
know.
Finn had a diplomatic presence and passport because of his job with FAO. That was also
a reason for being a bit more quiet. He thinks he would have been thrown out if he had
been caught in anything. There was a long way between tacit support and official.
When they left the country in 1989 they donated their Peugeot to the ANC, something
Sue had been asking for a long time and which quite a few of the cooperantes did. In
support of the Movement and because they could not take meticais with them out of the
country.
We had reached the last years of the apartheid regime. So they said. But what we knew
and what we saw was that things were toughening up. The Boer attacks and the
assassinations seemed endless.
Some of the few comrades who had arrived in Mozambique after Nkomati was a group of
young journalists who had worked in the Department of Information and Publicity, DIP.
There was an agreement through the Kadoma declaration signed in 1982 in Zimbabwe by
the SADCC Information ministers that the SADCC countries should help train journalists
from the liberation movement. Mozambique accepted this clause and received five of our
comrades. There was Ben, Gibson, Richmond, Charlie and Malaya—at least that is what
we called them—and they started working in different sectors of information, with the
radio, with AIM etc.
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Gibson worked in Radio Mozambique with Dan. He was small of stature. He was a very
keen and very nice friend liked by all. One evening he went to a party organised by the
then ANC representative Sipho and drank some beer from a can. Shortly after, his feet
became paralysed and the paralysis spread through his body. Gibson Ncube died a
horrible death eight days later in Hospital Central on April 5, 1987. The killer was
present at the party. He had brought the poisoned beer from South Africa and was
watching how Gibson emptied the can. We didn’t know him, nor did we obviously know
why he was there and that he was linked to the incident.
We buried Gibson. And we went for the washing of the hands. We who had buried so
many comrades, were all horrified. You never got used to it. How and what had
happened? How many times had we not had parties? How many bottles of beer or
whiskey had we not been consuming? Who would be next? What method would be the
next one to kill us?
It was soon after this event that our son, Themba had to go back to school in Harare.
When he arrived at the airport there, he saw some comrades that he knew from Maputo
and asked them for a lift to town. They said to him that of course they would take him,
but they first had to pick up a parcel at the custom office. It was a television. They drove
to town. Dropped Themba and continued to the house of Chiliza a former comrade in
Maputo who now lived with his family in Harare.
The television was booby trapped, and exploded in the second that Chiliza’s wife, Tsitsi,
inadvertently switched it on. It killed her on the spot.
It is not only in my mind that these two events, the poisoning of Gibson and the killing of
Tsitsi are linked. The killer was the same man. After having fetched Gibson’s family for
the funeral in Maputo, Leslie Lesia was asked by the Civil Co-operation Bureau (CCB) to
carry out his next deed. He was supposed to take a booby trapped television to the ANC
office in Maputo and hand it over to the deputy chief representative, Herbert Thabo for it
to explode there. But one of the officials from the ANC office, Mhlope had given the set
to Frank Chiliza, his former colleague and asked him to take it to the cief representative
in Zimbabwe, Reddy Mzimba.
The whole story about Leslie Lesia is told by Jacques Pauw in his book: Into the Heart of
Darkness (chapter 16). The point of his story is that the killer himself was an innocent
man who was lured into becoming an agent for the apartheid CCB. Pauw tells how he
was caught by the ANC in collaboration with the CIO of Zimbabwe nearly immediately
after these events; how he was tortured; and how he ended up in a Zimbabwean prison as
the longest serving black person in that country’s history. My knowledge and tolerance
did not reach out as far as all that. I knew he had killed two good comrades close to us,
and I knew that he could easily have killed my son, if he by chance had decided not to
remain in the car but to go upstairs and help install the television set.
It was at about the same time that a group of South African commanders struck in a flat
next to deputy representative of the ANC, Herbert Thabo. They forced the door open,
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entered while shooting left and right. It was in the night and two people were there
asleep. They never managed even to run for protection. The couple was a Mozambican
husband and wife of the name Panguene.
We never found out whether the whole thing was a mistake. Did the commanders want to
kill Herbert and made the mistake of going to the wrong flat? Or was this ‘mistake’ on
purpose? We had several cases now where Mozambicans had been hit instead of the
ANC comrades. Our security could not protect them and could not get us the answer.
Who was the target? Were they trying to drive a wedge between the Mozambicans and
ourselves?
On the personal level I suddenly became very scared. We had spent years taking the
children to new houses in the night. We had spent years in and out with the underground
cadres. We had seen comrades die and we had made a second meeting place of the
cemetery. But suddenly this event hit me very hard, and I insisted in sending our third
child aged 13 off to Denmark to stay with his sister aged 19. Also Themba got tired of the
racism of his school in Harare and preferred to join the sister and brother in their home of
three.
I felt a tremendous relief. Like somebody had taken a heavy burden off my shoulders. A
burden I hadn’t, in all my eagerness to serve the ‘cause’, been aware of. I could fly. All of
a sudden. With the children out of the way in a safe place, you could again start
breathing.
Everything was relatively calm. Seemed calm.
Came the 7th of April 1988. The Mozambican Women’s Day. A day off. A friend bursts
into our house and breaks the peace of the day. Have you heard? This face, this
excitement. I was immediately reminded of what happened on the day when somebody
broke the news about Ruth First.
Albie. I don’t know whether he was killed. I don’t know very much. But there was a
bomb. It exploded in his car. No time for reflection. Without exchanging any word, we
divided up. Alpheus went to get more information and to warn comrades at the office and
in their houses. I went straight to the hospital. Walked in. The event was so new that the
hospital staff had not yet taken any measures. Soon after, Lucia came rushing in. She and
Albie had just broken up a week before. But their closeness was not broken. We looked at
each other. We tried to answer each other’s questions. It had happened at the corner of
Avenida Julius Nyerere and Avednida Eduardo Mondlane. Just below his flat. When he
entered the car to go to the beach which he always did on Sundays and Days off. Was it
him setting off the bomb in starting the engine or was it remote control form opposite the
street where the South African Trade Mission had their house? We later saw pictures.
The place is just next to the ETV and some journalists from there rushed to the place in
time to get pictures, the first horrific pictures of the accident.
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There was not much hope that he would survive. But at present while Lucia and I were
talking he was under the very apt hands of a young Mozambican doctor, Yvo Garrido
(presently minister of Health). That was a comfort, both because of his surgical
reputation but also because he was a close friend of the Movement. We could trust him.
We realised in our anxious waiting that we were the only people who had managed to get
in. Now the hospital was cordoned off and nobody was allowed in. After a while the
Council of Ministers rushed in to where we were, one by one, and gathered in a room
behind us. They were formulating the Press Statement and the declaration from the
leadership.
Still no news from the Operation Theatre. Was there a way we could talk to a doctor? The
operation went on for hours and hours. At least Ivo hadn’t given up. As long as he was in
there, there might still be hope. We knew we couldn’t go out for a second, because we
would never be let in again. We tried to calm each other. Only towards the end of the day
were we informed that Ivo had had to amputate one arm, and that the perspectives for the
rest of the operations were optimistic. Ivo and his crew had done their utmost. We had to
wait in order to see whether it was enough. And we agreed to leave.
Lucia was allowed back a few days later. But security was very strict. Albie was even
moved from one ward to the other because there were some indications of security
problems where he was first. He never got food from the hospital for fear of poisoning,
and Alma (p. ) cooked every meal he ate. She was allowed in. And his two sons who had
come from London to visit their father. And then after a few days, when his situation was
stabilised the press and television were invited to come in.
How he is taken for further treatment in London, leaving in a helicopter from the roof of
the Central Hospital and how he lives on and copes with his problem without ever
collapsing into depression. How he later talks to the man who has placed the bomb, is all
described in his book ‘The Soft Vengeance of a Freedom Fighter’.
But what always amused me was that he had no traumas when passing the place of the
attempted assassination in front of his flat. He simply does not, consciously nor
unconsciously, have any memory of what happened when the bomb exploded.
Another event in the ANC community took place that same year in December into
January 1989, but has for ever been kept silent and has never been fully clarified.
Tommy and Zola were married by now. Tommy was working for the Cashew
Department and was therefore allowed to stay at Nkomati. Zola was working in the ANC
office as responsible for the logistics since the mini-Nkomati. They had moved into a flat
on one of the top floors in a building in Alto Mae. They always felt very safe because
their house was lying next to Frelimo military structures. The only way in was through
the main door.
It was hot in December. They slept with their windows open. But one night there was a
strange noise on the balcony. The balcony was lit. Tommy saw a shadow on the balcony.
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Maybe it was just a dream. But the noise continued. It sounded as if somebody was
cutting the mosquito net. He woke up Zola. The noise stopped. Tommy went to the
balcony, drew the curtain, and just saw the bottom part of a military outfit. The man was
being pulled up and suddenly disappeared. Zola ran to the place where they kept their
gun, pulled the AK and came to the dining room. Nobody. They went to the door, and
they could see that indeed, somebody had cut the mosquito net. They checked the kitchen
door. The main door. Nothing.
Tommy immediately went to the 10th floor. He had earlier made acquaintance with a
Frelimo captain who lived there. He went to knock at the door although it was in the
middle of the night. When the officer got up Tommy told him that somebody had been
dropped from the top and insisted that he come and see what had happened.
They went down together and next door to the military post. After addressing the
commander, they all went upstairs to check on the building of the military.
It had drizzled in the early hours of the morning, so there were footprints on the roof.
Tommy: ‘Now, look, officer. Here are the footprints. Somebody walked here.’ So
he came over to this wall, and right on top of my balcony... you could see that a
rope was being used here. You can see the marks when you pull somebody. The
rope was not there, but the friction marks were. And you could see footprints on
the wall from when they were pulling him up. Footprints on the wall, vertically.
Which means somebody was walking on the side of the wall. And the captain was
amazed. How could this happen? Who was here? Nobody answered.
They had a very frustrating Christmas, thinking that they might be attacked either
Christmas Eve or perhaps New Years’ Eve. They couldn’t sleep properly. If this person
wanted to come and break into the house, why come at night and not during the day,
because both of them were working. They immediately installed burglar bars on the doors
and on the windows.
They communicated the matter to the Mozambican security, and to the ANC, and then in
January, exactly a month to the date, on the 20th of January something happened again.
They woke up in the morning, switched on the television to listen to the news. There was
no signal. No signal? Tommy opened the door to the balcony which led to the bedroom.
The booster was gone. The booster had been cut. – At that time when you wanted to
watch television you needed a so called booster on the roof or balcony connected to the
TV. - How did this happen? And why? They informed the ANC security. It was a Friday.
They went to work. Came back in the evening.
It was hot. They ate their dinner early. Zola decided to go to sleep already at nine o’clock.
Tommy remained in the sitting room but already at ten decided to go to sleep. He
checked the other bedroom doors to see whether they were locked. The kitchen. Locked.
And he closed all the windows although it was unbearably hot.
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Tommy: That night I decided not to wear pyjamas. I was in shorts. I went to pick
up the AK. And we had a Makorov pistol and two hand grenades also. Put it on the
floor. I slept with the AK snuggled on my chest. The light of the balcony was on.
Around 2h00 in the morning, the door of the kitchen side balcony was snapped. It
just “cracked”. I jumped out of bed, into the corridor and then to the kitchen. I saw
a person standing on the balcony with a balaclava on. The face covered. I couldn’t
believe what I saw. Zola was also up. I put the gun on semi-automatic. I had never
used a gun in my life except for training purposes. But I knew for a fact that it is
either us or him. And relating from the previous experiences where comrades were
killed in their houses in Lesotho, in Maseru, in Botswana, in Angola, I knew that
this was the time that we were going to become victim statistics of apartheid’s
assassins. And my body became very cold. I was shivering. I felt very cold. And I
knelt down next to our small freezer. This man was fidgeting to get his eyes
accustomed to the darkness of the house.
He did not see me sneak into the kitchen, because it was dark inside and the
balcony lights were on. He is trying to adjust his sight to see movements inside the
house, whether we heard the noise or not. I took a deep breath, a very deep
breath. And I said to myself, if this has to happen, so let it be. The problem that I
had...you don’t think rationally… was: how many are they? I might shoot and miss.
They might return fire.
Zola was coming. She had grenades. Already the pins were ready. We didn’t talk.
She just came out of the bed and took the grenades. There I knelt. As he pushed
the door, I opened fire. I don’t know how it happened. But the first shot went
through the forehead. It pushed him right away from the door. The impact of the
bullet pushed him into that wall and it brought him back. He hit the wall and he
came rushing again. Second bullet. (Tommy clicks with his fingers to illustrate). As
I was shooting I could hear footsteps running on top of the house. Running away.
And I opened fire.
I was just shooting and shooting and shooting. I emptied the magazine at him and
also at the wall. One bullet hit the wall and ricocheted, and hit me here. I was very
lucky, it just grazed my left shoulder. And then the shooting ceased.
There he saw it: The man was dead. There was a pool of blood. Tommy now went to the
10th floor and called the captain he had talked to before. They immediately went up to the
top floor :
Tommy: Guess what we get: sandals, because the man came barefooted. He had
left his shoes up at the top. He had already again cut my booster, which means
before coming to the kitchen, he was already on the other balcony.
There was a rope that was tied to the staircase going to that water tank into the
street behind
Then he left and Tommy called the ANC security and explained what had happened
Now the problem was: How do we tell Frelimo who shot this man? Whose gun was it?
Because ANC members were not allowed to carry guns. But Tommy had an idea.
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Tommy: At about nine in the morning, some of the top Frelimo brass band came
to the flat to find out about the incident. The captains, the generals and what have
you. All lined up in military outfits. They said: We have got a report from captain so
and so that this has happened. Since it is next to our military installations, we are
concerned. Before they came, I took a video of the dead “assassin”. And they said:
Who shot him? I said: I did. They said: How? Are you trained? I said: No. And they
said: But from the shots, only a person who knows how to use a gun can shoot like
this. I said: Well, it is luck. In the spell of the moment I was able to shoot. They
said: Tell us how it happened. I had to concoct a lie: ‘When this man broke the
door, I ran into the kitchen. Because it is dark inside, and the lights of the balcony
were on, he didn’t see me. I hid between the freezer and the table. He didn’t
expect me in the kitchen. He had an AK with him. When he was in the middle of
the house, I launched unto him with a big kitchen knife and I missed him. The
surprise attack shocked him to the extent that his gun fell. He ran for the door and
realised that the gun was still on the kitchen floor. When he tried to come and
retrieve his gun, it was too late. I was first unto the gun, I just pulled the trigger.
That’s all. Sim, señor. Sim, señor.
It was convenient for them to believe me. They tried to identify this man. Nobody
knew who he was. It was a black man. Around twenty years old. Twenty one,
twenty three. As I was explaining I recognised one of the soldiers who was on duty
when the first incident took place. I could see he was looking at me, thinking this
bastard is telling a lie, because this is not our gun. But he could not say that you
are telling a lie, because he was one of those who was on duty when we went up. I
should think there was some connivance with the soldiers.
The rest of the story is about how Tommy and Zola got away. Out of the flat. And out of
the country. They left as soon as they had the opportunity. And until now nobody knows
about the event. Who was the young man who got killed? What was the link to the
Apartheid regime? Only that they wanted to get rid of Tommy and Zola but did not
succeed because of their alertness.
Rob Davies was one of the constant in the ANC life. Since his arrival in 1979 he worked
at the in the Centre of African Studies. His wife Judith also worked there until she
changed her job to be the coordinator of the Canadian NGO CUSO and they moved
house, and got the use of a CUSO car besides their old green VolksWagen beetle.
Whereas Rob normally used his motorbike to go to work, he often took the beetle when
he was to fetch the children from school and nursery. He was a man of habits and most
often used the same way, the same hours and was fairly predictable in his movements.
Except when he did underground work.
He would often appear on the radio giving information about the movements of the South
African regime, and he wrote articles and informed other countries about developments
in the regime.
He became dangerous to the Boers.
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Soon after de Klerk’s famous speech about the unbanning of the ANC, on February 2nd of
1990 Rob had participated in an economic workshop of the ANC in Harare when a letter
bomb went off a few streets away from the conference place. Michael Lapsley was the
target and lost his arms in the blast.
Rob: My birthday and my mother-in -laws’ birthday were about the same time. She
had her eightieth, and we had a party at my house. May 1990. In fact that day I
had just given my notice to the Centre and planned to return to SA. where I was
offered a job by phone on the day Madiba was released. Some of the comrades
from Security came round and said to me: ‘We have the information that you are
next. After Michael Lapsley. The enemy is still active.’ So, well. I used to walk
around with my little outfit that Alpheus, Alma (p. ) and I were trained on (laughs)
and it used to fit nicely in my bag. My twenty-nine bullets. Two clips. I would walk
around with that, sleep out a bit, and then I discovered about a month after while I
was still working out my notice that it was actually a historic thing. Vrye Weekblad
had published an article about the assassination plans against me. What
happened was: they came across an example of a CCB death dossier. They used
to compile these dossiers, apparently at that stage it was the only one the press
had come across. What the CCB did, when they chose you as a subject, was to
give you a subject number and compile a dossier. I can’t remember the number
now, it was S1/ something or other, and they then had a little biograph. And then
they had some explanation why they wanted to get rid of you. A motivation thing.
Some things were right, some things were wrong.
They then had three plans, three death plans.
Obviously they had sussed out all your whereabouts; when you did what; they had
pictures, photographs; they had pictures of Judith and Joe in the car that she used
to drive from CUSO. They had a map, an aerial map of Maputo... they had the
house marked... where we lived. They were correct there. They had the route to
the University which I used to take. Which was also correct. On a motorbike. They
had a picture of me reading a newspaper which I can’t place. I have seen that
picture. I don’t know where it was.
And then they had three plans. One was to shoot me near my motorbike, which, in
effect, they could easily have done. The second one was a car bomb. I used to
drive Judith’ Volkswagen occasionally but only to take the kids to school. They
were going to put a bomb in the car. That would have killed the kids as well as me
if they had done that. And the third one, which they would have found more difficult
was to attack the house, because we had burglar bars and the rest.
They could have done it. The reason it didn’t happen was that—it would have been
in the middle of 89. First of all the Frelimo fifth Congress was happening, the
security was too high. Not a good time. So they said let us do it later. And then
apparently there was a row between the operatives in Swaziland and Maputo over
money and the Head Office, and all the projects were put on halt for a while.
(laughs)
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Our Security told me I was next. As though it was an active thing. I think they must
have got to know about it from the Vrye Weekblad. They didn’t know the timing.
And they didn’t have any of the details. They just told me I was next.
Judith was into it. She said, you must listen to the alerts and be careful at
meetings. We used to sleep out, and stay out more often than I would be inclined
to do otherwise. Yah, I mean, it was a drag, to take the kids from where they are.
We have supper at home, and we would drag them somewhere and sleep and tell
them it is fun, and they don’t want to go. It was a drag. And this time, in fact, CUSO
had a flat. We slept in this flat for some time after that story and told the kids to be
a bit alert. A few years later, when the book was published (Jacques Paw: Into the
Darkness of The Whore), I don’t know how old Joe was, ten or eleven, he saw the
gun, he thought that was really cool. (laughs).
You rarely got to know who were the people that were sent to gather information for the
CCB. In the case of Rob Davies, however, there is a suspicion which takes us to another
interesting case.
When investigating the assassination of the Swedish Prime-minister Oluf Palme in 1986,
the Swedish investigation team led by Jan Åke Kjellberg followed the traces of a South
African with several names. Jan Åke Kjellberg was an investigator attached to the Truth
and Reconciliation Commission but he was also the eyes and ears of the Swedish
investigation on the Oluf Palme murder. He led the investigation of a man in
Mozambique called Bacon. The belief is that he is one of two people who has committed
the assassination.
It is John Daniel who tells me the fascinating story about Bacon, but Terry Bell and
Dumosa Buhle Ntsebeza in the above mentioned book ‘Unfinished Business’ also give a
full account of the person they call Nigel Barnett as was his name in Maputo or
Westhuizen which seems to be his original name.
A South African with a Swedish mother he goes to Rhodesia to fight the guerrillas in the
seventies. He stays on after the South African police contingent is withdrawn in 1977
joining the Selous Scouts or a Rhodesian Intelligence group. But 1980 he comes south.
He joins the SADF, goes to Simonstown and is trained in diving techniques and
sabotage. He is sent to Maputo in 1983 and stays there until 1996 when he is arrested
because of a fight over a woman where he blows up the competitor’s yacht. The police
comes to his flat to arrest him for arson. They do a routine search and they discover
incriminating material against him. This is now 1997. They discover a Swedish passport
as well as a South African passport. The Mozambican authorities inform the Swedes who
then send an investigation team to Mozambique. Everything seems to point to him as one
of the very likely murderers of the Swedish Prime Minister, Oluf Palme..
He made a number of admissions. That he was a Military Intelligence operative, and he
names various people who were his superiors, how they communicated, he tells what his
instructions were, which was surveillance. He would receive instructions to collect all
relevant information on certain targets and compile a dossier.
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Rob Davies was most probably one of these targets.
He was clearly a brilliant operator. He survived for 11 years as military intelligent
operative.
Bacon was charged for arson and then for spying. But after a year, he disappeared in
Mozambique. Most likely the apartheid regime paid somebody enough to let him go. He
is obviously a clever spy. So he disappeared and he never stood trial.
John Daniel has always been amazed that the ANC government never made more of a
fuss about him. The Swedes could not prove that he was Oluf Palme's assassin but he was
at least implicated in a large number of killings. So even if the Mozambicans didn’t want
to try him, the South Africans could and should have tried him.
What is more. In the Bell-Ntsebeza book quoted above they think that it is very likely
that he was the one providing the inside information on the three Matola houses that were
attacked.
After his rough time in a Swazi jail shortly after the Nkomati Accord, Paul Moodley went
to Zambia for a period and then came back to Mozambique in 1988. Here he was a
commissar working with cadres who were going back home to fight. His task was to
prepare them politically and to look into the logistics of where to put them up, mostly
with the expatriate community and see to it that they were taken care of while they were
being prepared to go.
When Paul tells that hundreds of young cadres went through his hands, that he would
estimate that perhaps a thousand got prepared for the internal struggle, he is surely a
proof of what has been said earlier, Nkomati was forgotten and ANC was definitely being
accepted by Frelimo like in the early days.
It was around the time now when the overtures for talks were going on leading to the
negotiations. Most probably the ANC would be allowed to go back soon, and Paul’s job
therefore now also included preparing people for this type of home going.
Exile is a horrible experience. Hilda Bernstein says in her book “The Rift”, that it is the
terrible separation that can never be mended.
Preparing for home coming is another traumatic experience. Until now the feeling
amongst many comrades was the despair of having to be in exile for so long when they
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thought they were only going for military training and then back. Now that the end was
near they became worried, terrified, afraid.
They had to fill in the papers and admit to “criminal” things they had done. Would they
in effect be forgiven and be able to come home without being taken straight to prison? Or
should they not comply and omit from their paper what they had done previously? At one
level they were happy and delighted and toytoying whenever we were together. We had
won. We were going home. And like Franny said(p. ): We were going to put on our
revolutionary caps and be received as the heroes of the Nation.
But in private, many comrades were harboring other feelings. Fear. Nervousness.
Their families would expect them to come back with a high education and get themselves
a job to sustain the family. But could you call the couple of years they had spent in the
Eastern countries further education? What jobs would they perform? They only knew
about shooting and hiding in the bush?
And what about their wife/husband. Would he/she be accepted? Would he/she accept
their families and settle down with them. What about the girlfriend they had left behind
with a small child? The child would be old now, and where was the girlfriend? What
would she demand in relation to his new wife from exile? Those who had married
Mozambican women, or other nationalities for that matter, how would they adapt?
And they thought of the township they came from. Of the small houses they would have
to fit into again. Of the racial separation which they had broken when in exile for all
those years. They also suddenly saw their own mental health. Their drinking habits.
Their drugs. Their womanizing.
They had not been providing for themselves for all these years. Clothing, schooling, food,
electricity bills, everything was catered for by the Movement. Would they know how to
do it?
They had not been to Church for all these years, and they thought back at the Sundays in
the townships where the whole family would go. Would they remember to say grace
before a meal?
And people would look for political leadership by them. They came home as heroes. But
did they really know what the situation was at home?
Coming home - as indeed they suddenly did - was the ultimate difficulty. In 2001 The
Student Services Centre published An account of the experience in the Western Cape of
South African Repatriation full of interesting interviews, questionnaires, statistics and
analyses based on their contact with a high number of the exile's gate. They call the
study "In Exile while we are at home" which sums up beautifully what the difficulty was
about.
Paul is generally very proud of the ANC and about the role models he was shaped after.
Cde Zuma in particular. He is, however, not totally satisfied with the policy of receiving
the cadres when they came back.
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Paul: There are certain things that should have been put in place before the
cadres came back, the counseling, the jobs, the selection of people into certain
areas should continue. It was done a bit outside. And by that I mean the integration
into society by different people that didn’t agree with the Movement, working with
the Afrikaaner communities. A lot of these things didn’t take place, would not get in
place, with the result that we have got problems, especially with those unemployed
guys when they came back. The little bit of money that they acquired when they
first came home, that didn’t last long. The projects that were supposed to be
implemented for people to engage in didn’t take off properly. Mismanagement etc.
in some instances. In some instances the money was not sufficient.
Paul felt particularly dissatisfied with the integration into the army:
They didn't accept or give the grade according to my level at MK, the people that I
was supposed to work with in the department were so controlled by the old system
that we felt we didn't get in there, we shouldn't be accorded that low status. This is
what most of the comrades went through. They would be working with the old
school which would basically lead to troubles, so I decided not to go into the army.
I was accepted and given a grade,
So Paul decided not to join the army.
Pren took a different view. After returning to South Africa and trying to adapt which he
found very difficult, he was asked to be Mandela’s private doctor when he went to
Europe and afterwards he was thrown into the whole reintegration process of the armies
where he now became a general. But he agrees entirely with Paul's perception that there
was no proper counseling available to the cadres who came home:
Pren: All the comrades who come back home… we have never organised any
services to them, to counsel them, to counsel their families, monitor them. We
have done nothing. And when people come back they end up absolutely going
into conflicts with their families, because we come from an open, interactive
thinking, highly politicized about issues. And when you come back home, you
find a lot of stereotype things. You try to approach it, and to tackle it and you
meet up with a lot of confrontation from your family.
Mabena stayed in hospital in Mozambique for some time and then went to SOMAFCO
where he took part in cultural activities. He was scarred by the event and now trying to
pull his life together again. When time came to go back home. He couldn’t believe it.
It was in Tanzania that they said they would be returning home. They talked about
indemnity. He didn’t believe that people would give him indemnity. He was convinced it
was a trap and that they wanted to kill him. When they landed in Jan Smuts airport, he
saw a police with a dog. ... Now he was fighting. He was moving close to Jackie
(Selebe?), and he was the last to go out. Why should I come and kill myself when these
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people are still here. He was sure that he would be arrested. But no, he went to a hotel, he
was even free to walk around the streets until they got him transport.
He was afraid his mother would get a heart attack, so he first phoned her before he came.
Mabena: I just want to describe that scenario. I take a car. I am looking at this
Nduduza. I direct the driver now. After all these years I went to exile, there was
nothing that had changed in Nduduza. It was the same. I met my friends I was
schooling with. They were all old. Then I visited my mother. I looked at her. She
looked at me. The first question she asked me: ‘Sippho, what are you trying to
say?’ Then she started with a story about who died how. And then the following
day I had to go to their graves. You know, you end up not knowing what to do for
her now. What can I do? What I did, I bought tomb stones. This is the best I can
do. I can’t wake them up and tell them my story. And they can’t tell me their story
also. So that is what basically happened to me.
To me, even if I look at the developments now in our country. Our people are still
suffering. Our people are still suffering. Yesterday I happened to be somewhere
in Hammarskraal. I look at those grandmothers waiting that long queue for
getting their money...their pension. I remember I said to one of them: Malume,
no, you are not going to get your money. He waited the whole day. Those people
are supposed to get them their money, go. They didn’t come. Then they come at
5 and say, no, the machine is broken. Look at those grandmothers, they must go
back home, hungry as they were. It is sad. Especially... I don’t know what to call
it... decay. Those mothers... some of those mothers, their children have died. It is
not nice. I want to put it straight here. Here it is a different world. When we
struggled in exile, we used to know ourselves. But now, others have joined us in
order to benefit. That is what happens. And if we, the liberation fighters, are not
prepared to take up those problems, how, we are going to damage the
government and people will complain and see the government, just because it is
a black government.
Mabena joined the army. He is now a sergeant mayor. He found the Reconciliation
process very difficult. At Potchefstrom where he went to do his first training together
with those who used to be the enemy he was approached by a brigadier Stenkamp who
said “ Do you remember in Matola?” Mabena thought what is this one talking about? He
said: “I planned the mission”. So Mabena said to him: “Your planning was not proper,
because you took 200 mercenaries to kill 11 people. Wasted.” “Sipho, my friend. We
wanted you. We wanted you, up and down.” He could tell how they nearly caught him in
Swaziland when he was there at Mabele Hights with Moses Mabhida. They were there
looking for him. And Mabena would say: You wanted to stop the communists”, but, the
struggle was not in Maputo, it was in here. You left people here and then you went
running for us.” Strange to have these discussions with the ex-enemy.
Nkele had sent her daughter home a year before she followed with their two months old
son. That was a terrible time for her worrying for her daughter. But she needn’t have been
so worried,
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My father was so good, scared but happy at the same time. This is my daughter’s
child. And it was a big thing, because I think that also encouraged him that I
would come back. And in 1990 when the ANC was unbanned we came back. He
had lost weight. It took some time to recognize him. Because I knew him to be
this big man, but he had lost so much... and he was so happy. He was shaking.
In the airport. The Johannesburg airport. And it was so nice. Going back home.
Soweto. Those houses. And I looked. From outside. I thought: Jesus Christ: how
am I going to stay in those small houses? The houses were like a toy house
compared to where we come from. Jesus Christ. I am coming with so much
luggage and my kids. How are we going to stay in this house? You know, it only
struck me after some time: This is the house where I used to stay. This is my
home. How can I say that? We will survive. We will sleep on the floor. Whatever.
And everything will be fine. And we went in .... you know it was like... it was not
like that before I left. Somebody just squeezed it and made it to shrink to what it
was. And yet, it was the same. The old same house. And after some days I got
used to it, it was normal... We slept on the floor for some time. Then my father
bought me a bed. And it was much better sleeping in a bed. But I would...
because my parents had divorced... so I would sometimes go and stay with my
Mum, and sometimes I would go and visit my in-laws, but my father didn’t want
me to go and sleep there. He said, go and visit and come back (laughs).
After Mosse had come out from Robben Island, Olga (Chambale) was hesitant about
going back to South Africa with their two children. It seems that some of the problems
they encountered were due to the fact that they, she in particular, had adapted new values
while they were in Mozambique and with the ANC, values that Mosse’s family did not
prescribe to.
She went to live with his family, and things didn’t work. In White City in Deep Soweto.
There was so much misunderstanding between her and her in-laws. At that time she was
expecting twins. She decided to go back, because she still had somewhere to go. To
Chiawela. Until she delivered the twins. She got a job in Johannesburg in 94. At that time
it was very difficult with schools for the children, because all the schools were Afrikaan
schools. There were no English schools.
The ANC tried to help. But not so much. They were given 2.000 R and that was it.
Nothing further. At the end of the day they have learned that you have to stand up and
help yourself to squeeze out anyway you can fit. She had tried to go to Shell House, but
everybody was looking to Shell House for help to get a job. No counseling or anybody to
help you. They were always busy.
The main problem with the family was that they still had this belief that a man was a
man. A woman was a woman. If you are a woman you always bend to your man and
obey.
Olga: That is how the conflict started. They didn’t understand why I have to go
and work while my husband is working. Even him, ended up feeling that situation
that why I had to, but now he can see that no if I do something life will become a
little bit much easier for us. Much easier for us. Because we are all working....
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So it was a misunderstanding, because they had a lot of expectations to me
being married and staying with them. I was just like a slave to them. I must be
their slave. They must expect anything. I must do anything. I have my two kids to
look after and then their own small babies to look after so everything it was so
confusing. So I said: No, I can’t take this any more, that is why I decided to go.
He stayed. The sisters were not working and they had kids and he was the only
one. And to divide himself he had to maintain this family and Zandile and Kateko
they are there. He must maintain them.
The other conflict centered around the children:
... they (the children) were speaking English. They could not speak Sotho with
my in-laws. They could not go to the shops where they must speak sotho. But
how? There was no Sotho where we were coming from. And I can’t take them to
a Sotho school where they were not doing sotho. To go backwards in class. So it
is better where ever they are.
It was Guebuza who came to their rescue by offering them to stay in a house that
belonged to his family in Soweto. They stayed there until Mosse got a job in Pretoria
where they bought a house.
Carla, like Olga, didn’t find it easy either to live with her in-laws.
For some years after Paul’s death she did some English and secretarial course in
Zimbabwe, got a job with the Mozambican Railways, and kept herself busy until 1992
(November) where she could return to South Africa. A place she didn’t know. People she
didn’t know. Family she didn’t know. Her parents-in-law had been wonderful and caring,
and the mother-in-law, a nurse at Baragwanath, visited them often in Swaziland. The
father-in-law was banned and couldn’t get out, but they had now both passed away (in
1991).
Carla went to live in Soweto with her sister-in-law. She didn’t consider going to
Mozambique because she had to bring the children to where they belonged.
I have a sister-in-law, Paul’s sister. When I got there, they gave me my in-laws’
bedroom to sleep there with my two kids. I came in November... December,
January, February, March. Five months I wasn’t working. You know, it was tough.
It was tough. I have never... even with the times in Mozambique with no food, I
have never starved in my life like people in Soweto. South Africans are very poor.
They pretend to be what they are not. But the reality, you go to the townships,
that is where you find that most people are struggling to survive in the townships.
I have never... even in Mozambique...with all the problems. You know people go
and get those vegetables, all types of vegetables, and make it with peanuts.
They try to survive. But in Soweto they eat paap. They go into the butcher’s and
buy the bone, you know the big bone that has not even one piece of meat, and
they boil that bone the whole day. And by the boiling of that bone, it makes a
thick juice ... it is just boiling and boiling and boiling of that bone that makes the
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thick juice. And the thick juice they eat with paap. The South Africans they
pretend, because they have those buildings, the big highways and the roads
crossings all over the buildings. They seem all right. But they are not. South
Africans are very poor... You go to the townships, and you realise, they pretend
to be what they are not. And up till today I am sure they haven’t changed. That
traumatised me and my daughter, Lebo. She was about nine, ten...
She couldn’t write, she couldn’t read. A child that has been so brilliant in Harare,
suddenly for no reason she couldn’t write, she couldn’t read. It was difficult. In January
they started school. I went to ANC offices. I used to walk to the ANC offices every day
during those five months before I got this job.
I used to come from Soweto and see if they could give me a job. I had done my
secretarial course. I couldn’t say I was perfect, because I had just done it. I worked twice
in Harare as part time, at the University of Zimbabwe and this company (RailWays of
Mozambique). I used to walk into those offices at Shell House, from one floor to another,
to see all the people I knew. Not even one person helped. Not even one ...They referred
me to Holy Family (School) in Parktown. I went there, I got the children placed there.
Came January, school fees. They only pay school fees. They don’t pay for uniforms,
they don’t pay for books, they don’t pay for transport. They are not paying for anything.
There I sat for five months doing nothing. Getting frustrated, depressed. I was even
having a nervous break down. With all the stress and all the suffering. And on top of that,
my sister-in-law. She would come in the evening. We were sleeping. The lights are off in
the bedroom. The door is closed. She will just open the door like as if she is fighting and
put on the light for no reason and close the door. And I said to myself, there is something
here that I don’t understand. What is going on? But what can you do? This is not your
house. You don’t even have where to go. You don’t even work. You don’t do anything in
this house. You just have to shut your mouth and just be happy while this is happening.
But then one morning she got a call from the Mozambican Railways who remember her
from the time she worked with them in Harare. They offered her a job as a secretary. She
has worked for them since that day.
People couldn’t believe that the ANC didn’t look after her. Her husband being a
commander. Until the elections the ANC paid for the school fees to make them believe
that they were there for them. After the elections there was no Bathlagaa Trust. It
finished. She had to move the children from the Holy Family in Parktown which lost its
State Subsidies and went private to Queens High, 2.500 R per child per year. She could
not manage that. She had to borrow the money from the office with 10% discount, which
they deduct every month from her salary.
Carla is bitter with the ANC
That is the ANC we now have. ANC does not care. The ANC doesn’t remember
where they come from, and when you tell them they feel you have got a big
mouth.
And she wrote an article about it in the newspapers: People have forgotten where they
come from. They drive around in their Mercedes Benz and have forgotten about those
who have lost loved ones in the struggle. People have forgotten about the children who
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haven’t got a father... or a mother. Why? So that some people can be where they are
today.
But Carla’s deepest bitterness with the ANC is due to their handling of her husband’s
murder case:
There is this thing that Nanik killed my husband. There is this thing that she was
given pardon by the ANC. There is this thing that Nanik goes... she socialises
with all the ANC people. Everybody hugs. Guebuza, other people, they all hug
Nanik like nothing is happening in front of me. It hurts me. It hurts me, that this
woman is the woman who killed my husband, and there are the prominent people
of the ANC, and they socialise with that woman. What exactly is happening? I
went to the TRC to find out. Nothing came out. What happened? Why is this not
coming out. Maybe it is still coming. Until the TRC was closed.
Carla and another widow Felicia who lost the comrade Viva went into the matter, talked
on TV and in newspapers. Eugene de Kock from his prison cell called Felicia and said
that he didn't understand the fuss. He had written a report to the ANC and to the TRC
about all the incidents he had been involved in and all the incidents where he had not
been involved himself but where he knew what happened. The killing of these husbands
were also in the report. So he could not understand why the claim that they don't know
what happened. He mentioned the group of killers. (It also became clear that September
was not involved). One of them was Lapiscagne who was subsequently sent to investigate
the case of Mc Brian in Maputo.
Carla went to the Mail and Guardian, took up the story and told that she was going to sue
the Minister of Safety and Security who at the time was Sidi Mufamadi accusing him of
using her husband's killer to investigate McBride case. She claimed that Lapiscagne
killed the three of them: Paul Dikeledi, Cassius Make and Viva.
Carla: It is only then that I said to myself: I am going to get Hugo (Eugene de
Kock's lawyer Hugo Schalk), and Hugo gave me all the details. Nanik was a
registered member of the Death Squad, the Vlakplaas-whatever. She gave all the
details for the killing. You ask yourself, but how, even today, people like Siphiwe
Nyanda and big guys who ended up in government today, but let us say ANC
people embrace, love, talk to that woman. What, what? Are there any
connections? Why are they hiding? Why didn’t they want this case to come out?
Why are they hiding? Who do you trust? Who don’t you trust?
The bitterness is very strong in Carla. She feels used - misused - by the ANC:
During the court case, Ronnie Kasrils said to her lawyer that she got a special pension
(lump sum of 48.000R) for Paul. Yet, Carla won her case, but many people phoned her to
criticize her. How could she sue the ANC.
She also had a big fight with Siphiwe Nyanda when it came to the demob. He did not
want to give her the demob. and took off her name from the list. She wasn’t scared of
anyone. With the help of her dictionary she wrote a letter to Mandela. Straight to
Mandela who was the president at the time. Got a fax number and sent it. When the cake
was hot, she was used. Now she was only a widow. Within a week she received three
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letters, one from Mandela’s office, one from the ANC Secretary General’s office, one
from Joe Modise. Everything was sorted out. She got her demob. She feels particularly
bitter with Guebuza and ignores him. It is not the 5.000 R, the 10.000 R, the 20.000 R
that is going to make her rich. He worked so closely with Paul that he should be there to
ask about the kids. Are they at school? What are they doing? But they have forgotten
about the Freedom Charter. She will go all the way to defend what are her rights.
Odette has also found it very difficult to come “back” to her husband’s country, but in her
case the difficulties started in Mozambique with the ANC women who in her opinion
didn’t accept her as she has already explained. For Odette, therefore, the problems are
related to her being a non-South African woman.
Odette: Eu decidí que olha é melhor eu me afastar. Eu vou me afastar das
senhoras do ANC. Eu disse ao Dan: Tu continuas, tu es membro do ANC muito
bem, mas eu, integrar-me no ANC como deveria, eu não vou fazer. Eu casei-me
contigo. Agora, se elas não reconhecem o meu casamento contigo, não vale a
pena ir para là, porque eu não sei o que elas podem fazer a mim. Também fiquei
jà sem confiança nelas. Então preferi afastar-me.
Eu não posso generalizar se foi com todas ou não. Mas o que eu conheci,
mocambicanas, sofreram o mesmo que eu sofri.
Odette met them in Shell House when they went to deal with all the documentation, the
Mozambicans, the Angolans, some in tears. Some where sent back
Odette: Chegaram aqui, os maridos meteram-se com as antigas amigas e não
haviam entendementos entre os pais do marido e a pessoa, então... isso foi uma
coisa muito triste que fez que elas tiveram que voltar para tras, e lembro me
muito bem duma senhora angolana, estavamos a conversar, ela com três
crianças, não tinham nada para comer, e a senhora disse: Eu quero regressar
para a minha terra natal. Este homem quando estava em Angola, a minha familia
fez tudo para ele, recebeu-lo como filho, tratou-lo muito bem como filho, e que
ele havia mentido para ela que a familia ca tinha possibilidade e tudo, e ela vem
para cá com os filhos, a familia desprezava a ela, não queria a ela porque não
era sulafricana e chamaram-na de makwerekwere que é um insulto para nós
estrangeiros e coitada, ela estava lá a chorar e tinham dito là no Shell House
que iam mandá-la de volta para Angola, o que ela preferiu fazer, iam pó-la no
avião. Houve muitas situações destas.
Rachid also encountered some difficulties when he returned particularly in regard to his
position in the army. He had always been in senior positions in the Liberation Movement.
During the struggle Rachid was senior to many of the leaders, both the political and the
economic leadership of today but did not get the leadership of the army and went for
other positions. He says that he does not harbor any bitterness in this connections because
one of his views on life is that people will achieve what they had set themselves to do.
Rachid: There are many comrades who complain about not having got what they
wanted, not having achieved what they had expected to achieve. But you have to
ask: What kind of victory did they expect? Victory it was. No doubt about that. A
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free South Africa. But the form of the victory, a negotiated settlement. Maybe with
hindsight it was just as well. Perhaps a negotiated settlement, because the
danger of totally destroying an enemy is to be left with rubble. If you look at
Germany in 1945: rubble. If you look at some of the other struggles against the
Portuguese. When they withdrew from Mozambique or Angola, they destroyed
the infrastructure, the roads, they destroyed whatever they could. And that is the
problem when there are losers. The losers will try to destroy as much as they
can out of vindictiveness.
From the perspective of the ANC the question even about the Sunset Clauses has to be
asked: What were the implications? And Rachid believes that they were able to out
maneuver the enemy and take the political and moral high grounds.
Rachid: Perhaps what was not achieved was to take the administrative ground
of the country. Because many of the structures of government continue to be in
the hands of the previous regime. It also has to be accepted: how did the ANC
came and brought order over the old guard? Not all the old guard was
necessarily tied in with the regime. Yes, in the old days they were. But many of
them realised that their own survival lay in working with the new government.
That in itself was the victory of the Sunset Clauses. It gave them hope. It gave
the whole country hope. In fact, South Africa is the hope of the World in many
ways. You start asking yourself: What was it that was achieved?
Rachid and Joe Slovo had a long discussion about the Sunset Clauses because many
people were quite critical. Is it not a capitulation? Is the aim not to take over total power?
When asked about his views Rachid answered “Do we have a choice? “ The question as
well as the answer came from knowing what the military capacity of the ANC was.
Many of the military commanders were not able to carry out their operations or direct
their own machineries with success. And in hindsight you could say: The very bloody
phase was avoided. In fact, Rachid came back much later than the other comrades in the
High Command. His instructions were to stay outside. He had the knowledge of the
whole infrastructure of the ANC military. Should everything else fall down, he knew how
to get weapons in, get men in, and he could start all over again.
Rachid knows that there are many cadres who are bitter. Yet the negotiation secured that
all military cadres would have a place. For those cadres who were too old or who didn't
have the educational skills, a reasonable package was negotiated.
Rachid: We must be careful with this culture of entitlement. People have to look
after their own lives. You cannot have a Movement look after everybody's life.
Many of the people that complain the most are the people that got the most in
exile and did the least. As you know there was the approach that everybody gets
so much food, and everubody gets the same. Nobody ever looked at: Did
everybody contribute the same? Did everybody work the same?
Perhaps there is a feeling that not enough was done about that. But again it is a
question of “How much can you do?” and “How much normality can you bring?”
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“Could we have done more?” “Did we have the infrastructure to do it” “Are we a
social organisation or are we there to get into government structures?”
This leads Rachid to the very important question:
From the ANC side, it is important to ask the question: The people that came
from exile, how would they have fitted in? But the bigger question, what about the
rest of the population? 40 - 45% unemployment. In fact there are many people
who raise the question and say: These exile, they always expect so much. They
get so much more. What about us people from the country. We have also
struggled and fought and suffered and we get nothing.” So there are all these
debates. And it is a question of the enormity of the problem we are faced with.
If we look at what we were able to achieve, in essence we got every military
cadre into the country into the defence force. If not they were given some kind of
recompensation, and it wasn’t small. Everybody in addition to the military, has
been given some form of special pension if they lived in exile. And the people
bears the price of it.
Many a time you talk to them, you tell them, there is a job, there is what you have
to do, go for it, then they refuse, no no no, comrade, I need this and I need that.
We need to bury this culture of entitlement. They’ve got to learn to stand on their
own feet. Because many of the cadres, when they went out of the country, were
students. They had never fended for themselves. They had never worked. And
that becomes a huge problem. Now they are adults. With families. They had a
huge infrastructure out there, that looked after them. They come back into the
country, and that infrastructure doesn’t exist anymore. The ANC also doesn’t
have these handouts, there is no DANIDA there, there is no SIDA there. There is
no Soviet Union that is going to give you weapons and clothing. No mphando. It
is survival. And it is each one for himself.
And as a matter of conclusion Rachid says:
Compared to other liberation movements, we have treated our exiled comrades
very well. Yes, we are a big country, and we are relatively rich. But instead of
asking: Did we treat our exiled well? The questions should be: Do we treat all our
people well?..