I
voted in 1994. That makes me very old. So old in fact that I have a combined 30-year recollection of life during and post-apartheid. I have a vivid memory of a
Monday sometime in October of 1984 when students from Mtyobo primary school in
Port Alfred abandoned classes and launched a march towards a nearby Nomzamo
High School. Nearby is relative here, because Nomzamo High was a good 10 km
away. When the students arrived at Nomzamo High a feisty principal, one Mr
Mzizi, standing at the gate with huge dogs, met them. These students were
intent on disrupting classes here too. It soon became clear to the students
inside that the classes were to be disrupted. After all the whole exercise was
planned. But principal Mzizi had apparently called the police. When the police
finally arrived, the proverbial horse had already bolted. The students had left
and were to be seen all over running in the open veld to the north of the
township. The police in the meantime were firing tear gas.
This
day marked the beginning of the mid-1980s student uprisings. I was doing Standard 2. A month or so later
we wrote our final exams, but we had no clue of what lay ahead of us the
following year. The year was 1985, and by this time the uprisings had taken a
serious foothold. Schools did not open and so that meant we had to stay at
home. This was to be the case the entire year. Even in 1986, it was to be the
same. This was at the height of the
state of emergency, where there were curfews – meaning people were not allowed
to walk in the streets after 9pm. The small township did not have electricity
and after 9pm the riot police roamed freely using powerful “searchlights”. This was the time of detention without trial. It was also the time of
the “necklace”. It was the time of consumer boycotts. Fear reigned supreme.
Proper schooling ground to a halt for full two years. But those who had
relatives in the Ciskei or Transkei were sent there to continue with their
studies, although at great risk because such families were threatened with death.
Those who left were termed dissenters or quite correctly “amadissenter”. We
returned back to school in 1987. So much had changed. Some of the youth were
still in jail. This was an interesting time because there were periods devoted
to “umrhabulo”. This means struggle activists would come and tell us about
Mandela and why he was in prison. We
were young, and therefore it was not easy to fully understand what was going
on. But we were exposed to defiant pamphlets like Learn and Teach that were
distributed by the UDF. Schooling did eventually normalize and we completed our
primary school successfully.
In
1990 I started my standard 6 at Nomzamo High school. Nomzamo was a
dysfunctional school. It had suffered tremendously from the disruption of the
mid-80s and the departure of Mr Mzizi, who had run it like a benevolent
dictator. Teachers during my time there simply did not bother turning up to
teach. Most of them were originally from Grahamstown. Mondays were literally free days with no
teaching whatsoever! I made a decision that I would leave the following year to
find better schools in Port Elizabeth. I ended up at Kwazakhele High School.
This school was run by yet another benevolent dictator, Principal Gcilitshana.
A passionate old man who prided himself on having built the school from
nothing. The school was burnt down during the heady mid-1980s, because he would
not allow students to be disturbed during school hours, he used to tell us. In
this school, there was superb workmanship, a sea-change from Nomzamo High. These
would be my best high school years.
During
this time, Mandela had just been released, and the rhetoric was that of
negotiations. This mood was instilled in us at school. Teachers were looking at
us as real leaders of tomorrow. It was during this period that I saw many of
the ANC leaders in their most humble manner. Many of the ANC rallies were held
at Dan Qeqe stadium in Zwide and I went to many of them. I saw Steve Tshwete on
numerous occasions. In fact, many people do not know that he was the best
orator, especially in isiXhosa. I saw
Nelson Mandela on his second (the first was in an open veld in Motherwell)
visit to PE this time in Dan Qeqe. He had brought with him Peter Mokaba. One thing
I remember about this rally is that Peter performed a rousing toyi-toyi, but
when Mandela was about to speak, the thousands that had gathered there kept
stone silent. You could hear a pin drop! There were many other ANC leaders who
visited PE, for example, Trevor Manuel, Allan Boesak (himself an amazing
orator), Tokyo Sexwale, Harry Gwala, Ronny Kasrils, Charles Nqakula. I also
recall one of the biggest SACP rally held at Wolfson Stadium, Kwazakhele in
which Chris Hani, Joe Slovo, and others were present. During this time, people
were not bused to the stadium and there were no food parcels or t-shirts. The
ANC mobilized us to accept the process of negotiations. This was the era of
innocence where the ANC could do no wrong. I even saw Dikgang Moseneke, then
PAC deputy president.
I still remember very well when Chris Hani was murdered. The reaction in PE was extraordinary. Leaders like Thobile Mhlahlo at the time were exemplary in how they managed a very volatile situation.
In 1994 we were matric students. At the beginning of that year, our teachers called all matric students to gather at the school hall. We had no idea why, because it was about March. Remarkably, they told us that we were a different breed of students that the school had not seen in many years. We had no memory of previous students nor the real history of the school. The news was rather surreal to us. But at the end of that year, Kwazakhele High would achieve the highest matric pass rate ever. Up to this day, that record still stands.
We had started that year in apartheid South Africa but finished in a new South Africa. I voted at the old beer hall in Port Alfred. I also recall the Thabo Mbeki toast to the ANC victory, "...thank God almighty we are free at last...". I went outside, and by this time many toyi-toyis were springing up everywhere. I joined one from Zwide that ended up in Njoli square. This was the terminus for most of these celebrations. This was spontaneous. It was a raw excitement of a people.
Having seen all this, I am terribly disappointed by what I see happen these days.
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