JUNE 1976 Tribute Book (2) Ebook

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue work to the kitchen to relieve the office load. In- between making tea for Ms Rhona, Ms Zharina and Ms Jean, the boss’s wife, I did these other errands diligently. I was not allowed to call them by name, hence the titles. I was not even allowed to sit in the same office with them, as it was against the law of Apartheid. My filing and admin work was brought to me in a corner next to the kitchen sink. But this was not how I had pictured my life! I kept thinking to myself about this, as I had always seen myself with a university degree – being well- groomed, immaculately dressed and complemented by some stylish African print dresses – and running my own business. My high school years were a dress rehearsal for this role, so I had thought. I looked up to the internationally-acclaimed singer Mirriam Makeba, who was well-known for being well-groomed and for her fashionable head gears and natural hairstyles. I had actually started taking after her by wearing her stylish doeks in my teens, and it had become my fashion signature. But, then, there I was, making tea. Well, things do not always turn out the way we want them to, do they? However, I always knew that there was more in me to offer. Back to work... Four O’ clock comes, and another day of many cups of tea and washing up has come and gone. Soon, my lift comes, and I am on my way home. The doom and gloom in the car indicates that something is not right. Soon, the news over the radio confirms this. Soweto is on fire! Liquor stores, beer halls and the local authority offices have been burned 149

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe down. There is no entry to the township. All roads are blockaded by soldiers. The students have gone on a rampage! The news continues to be blurted out on the airwaves, leaving us in the car in great fear and confusion. The Orlando to New Canada route, which is one of the main entrance to Soweto, is inaccessible. The driver finds an alternative route, using the back route from the west, off the main Potchefstroom Road, on the outer peripheries of the township, taking us hours to get home. We end up driving through Bolani Road, unable to drop me off at my usual corner, so I have to walk. It has only been eight hours since I have been out of the township, yet the change is so harsh and severe. Forty years later I can still smell the smoke of burned tyres. On the side of the road there are trickles of burnt ash from several dying fires. The street is littered with wires from burned out tyres and stones in the middle of the road. Large stones, tiny stones, charred stones, just stones all over the streets. The local corner shops which usually close at eight at night are closed. It as if they were never opened. The street corners – which are usually meeting places for young boys waiting for their petite dates – are all deserted, leaving me with an eerie, scary feeling. The neighborhood’s four-roomed houses, which are usually glowing with flickering candle lights, are dark and look desolate and oddly quiet. It has only been eight hours since I had walked on these streets, and everything was normal, I keep reminding myself. Arriving at my home, I realise that the atmosphere in the house is lingering with great tension. Not soon 150

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue after I had asked what had happened, when there a huge argument ensues. The family dynamics of this era are odd. Like so many other adults, my parents had accepted the status quo in our country. Not everybody had political inclinations. Things are what they are and they must be left as such, my parents had believed. My siblings – on the other hand, and like so many other young people – were questioning the status quo. As a result, there was constant arguing between my parents and my siblings. The propaganda news on the radio did not make the situation any better. For me, the bickering had just been background noise. But only until the 16th of June in 1976; this fateful day, which had suddenly changed from having been peaceful in the morning to a burnt-out ghost town in the evening. So, as the township buildings are burning down, in some families, relationships are burning down, as well. Parents, children and siblings are not seeing eye-to-eye. For my siblings, it was even more frustrating because I also did not want to get involved in any matters outside of ‘putting food on the table’. My family was living in poverty and my aim was to relieve the family from lack. I had to earn a living to make things better. I was no different from so many of other youths of the day, then. They chose not to question the status quo to focus on their careers and build their business empires. They were also not concerned that we were not owning the land, and that, in the main, the economy of the country was still not in our hands. These were the youths who were comfortable in driving majestic cars whilst living in properties which we did not own, but were renting. My concern at that point in time, was 151

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe how I would be getting to work the next day. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. If I go I am betraying my siblings. If I don’t, I stand the chance of losing my job. This is the challenge that led to many people losing their lives, as many of these desperate people went to great lengths to avoid losing their jobs. Some dressed up in casual clothes and walked long distances to work. Others slept at work, only coming home on weekends, leaving their children to fend for themselves. As the days unfolded, I discovered that there were some students whose whereabouts were unknown, while many others were traced to the local Baragwanath Hospital, now known as the Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital. Others, like Poppy Buthelezi, were found injured, with a bullet in the spinal cord, and paralysed for life. Some of those who were taken into police custody could not be traced. Some of the other affected students could not return to their homes, as they fled the country for safety. The government mortuary became a dreadful place as more and more family members identified victims of police shootings and stampedes which had been caused by the firing of teargas. With so many people dead, funerals were conducted on weekdays for the funeral homes to cope with the consequential overflow. Soweto was filled with sorrow, grieving the loss of young lives, weeping lamenting missing students, and dreading to visit the students who were in police custody, knowing that they were being tortured. The Apartheid system was now no longer a ‘background noise;’ but it had become the reality of my life. The deaths of the young students 152

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue and the stories of those who had disappeared gave me a sense of what social injustice really meant, and it had all brought the sad truth close to home. I got to realise that I had become part of a social system that was grossly unjust and inhuman; a system that had disregard for young lives. As a young mother of a four- year-old, this evoked in me, deep emotions that had compelled me rethink about how I could bring about change. I left my job as a tea girl and pursued every opportunity to prevent the system from reducing me to poverty. This emotion continued to drive me as I left nursing and ventured into the restaurant and tourism business and, finally, publishing, which I am involved in, to date. All along, I had been evolving and still am, and remain eager to penetrate all those avenues that had been closed to us by Apartheid. My daily struggle was now beyond ‘putting food on the table’. Reflecting on our poverty-stricken childhood, my younger brother reminded me, the other day, that the first time he ever had a school blazer was in high school. For the first time, after I had bought them school uniform, they felt the dignity of being ‘prim and proper’ students, complete with school blazers and shoes. ‘Never forget that you are an African young woman and your beauty comes from your blackness and the texture of your hair. And do not believe anything else about yourself.’ That was the motivational exhortation of Jackie Selebi back at Musi High School in Pimville, Soweto. The late Jackie Selebi was one of those dedicated university students who, during their school holidays volunteered by teach the senior classes to prepare and 153

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe assist us for our final matric exams. Selebi, who later became the National Police Commissioner, had instilled in us the pride of being young African women. Because of his positive influence, I began to look around for African women that I could look up to. That’s when I began mimicking Mirriam Makeba’s elegant looks. We also had to enrich our brains with reading, he had emphasised. Reading was more than a hobby for most of us, as it has indicated earlier in the book; a hobby that has, in my case, turned into a livelihood. Back to the day of the march… During my walk back home on the evening of the students’ Bantu Education-opposing and anti- Afrikaans march, a lot is coming into my mind. Flashbacks of Sunday meetings which used to be disguised as after church service discussions. I remember student leaders like Popo Molefe and Isaac Motaung, coming to our home, regularly. I am certain that my sister must have shared my ignorance with them. Why else would they spend so much of their time convincing me about how we, as the youth of the country, could bring about change, in many ways – especially through arming ourselves with knowledge and being politically-erudite. These meetings were persistent, lengthy and intense. Each Sunday would bring a different set of student leaders presenting liberation ideology in many, different forms. On one Sunday, it would be the likes of Bruce Moeketsi, and on another, it would be Khotso Seatlholo and many others. Alas, my priorities were different, now. All I wanted was to be able to provide for my family, and to raise my son well, and, ideally, in a different 154

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue atmosphere than the current one. That was my focus; to be a good mother to my son, Victor, and I am grateful that I had chosen to do just that; all those years ago! “In promoting the book, I get to engage with our youth on a large scale. I see myself in most of them; not being concerned about matters of preserving our democracy, honouring the Constitution, and being cognisant of land issues and the economy of the country. But being concerned, mainly, with matters of lifestyle. In some sense, their attitude mirrors mine in the seventies, and I am compassionate towards them, and while also doing things differently to show them the light. For me, also, compiling this book is life coming full circle. On the 8th of June in 2013, Naledi High School, one of the nine Heritage Schools in Soweto, celebrated its 50th anniversary. One of the guests of honour at the event was Mrs Molokoane, Barney Molokoane’s mother. The school prepared a framed photograph of the Molokoane family at the celebrations. As part of the heritage committee, the headmaster, Mr Mavatulana, assigned me to be part of the entourage that was supposed to present the framed photograph to the family. One is moved as Barney’s mother shares the conversations she used to have with her late son, during which he used to explain to his mom that, even though he was her son, his life was for the struggle. Mrs Molokoane says she always understood that! Barney had always made it clear to her. 155

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe On 13th of June in 2015, I had an opportunity to meet Khotso Seatlholo’s wife and his daughters at the DOCC in Orlando Soweto, during a youth event which had been organised by political activist Seth Mazibuko. At this event, I presented the coffee table pictorial book to them. “Oh! Mama, look they wrote about papa in this book,” Seatlholo’s daughters had remarked, jubilantly. That was a big moment for me and for the memory of Seatlholo. Reflecting on the fortieth anniversary of the momentous events of the 16th of June in 1976, I am being interviewed by a local television station; “Mam’ Eunice, what would you say needs to happen for us to move forward as a nation? – The host asks. My answer: “We must hand over the baton to the next generation by listening to what they have to say. Unless we hear them out, we cannot communicate anything to them. Sadly, the youth is ignored or spoken down to, and, oftentimes, in a superior political tone which does not speak to their needs; this has to stop. “And, how do you feel about the youth of today? Are you disappointed in them?” – She asks, as she wraps up. My reply, in conclusion: “No! No! I admire the young women of today. They are what I should have become, in my youth; frisky, fierce and fearless; and I love them! As I walk out of the studio, one of the crew members comes to me and shakes my hand, and says; “Thanks Mam’ Eunice, for believing in us; it is refreshing not to be regarded as a lost generation, because we are not lost.’’ The youth are a clear and present force. We have to hear them out… I keep uttering this truism to myself, over and over, as I walk down the stairs to the parking area. We have to listen to the youth… 156

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue We have to hear them out… These reactions and interactions are part of a reward of telling the human story of the June 1976 student uprisings. Often, we look at our heroes without putting their lives in perspective; as sons, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, fathers and mothers. The book is a dedication to the youth of my years, especially those who responded to the call. The families they sacrificed, and lost their lives in order for me and my children and to enjoy the freedom we have, today. On the day of 16 June 2016 – forty years later – the celebration is marked on a different note. On that day, I went to vote. It had been twenty-two years since my first vote. The routine has become familiar. Each vote comes with a different impact and feel. I have been voting at the same station in Lonehill, Johannesburg since 1995. It is unbelievable to think that, not so long ago, this was never possible; and the sobering thought still fills my heart with gratitude. The Independent Electoral Commission, IEC officers and workers are at work, marshalling us, urging us, politely, to the right direction; and being concerned about those who are not well and fit to stand for long; greeting each of us with a warm smile. Now I know; I know South Africa belongs to us all. I am more than a South African citizen; I am a citizen of the African continent. Milestones of the Heritage School Book Project The same as Reverend Frank Chikane, Barney Molokoane is from Tladi in Soweto. The event of 8th June 2013 gave the school an opportunity to 157

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe acknowledge Molokoane’s legacy and we were honored to have his mother, sister and aunt gracing us with their presence, and looking visibly proud of his role as a freedom fighter. Barney Lekgotla Molokoane was scrupulously faithful to the ideals of the African national Congress, ANC and Umkhonto we Sizwe, MK. Although he was gifted in many other fields, he was always eager to learn through listening and debating. He was a disciplined soldier who was concerned with maintaining good health and physical condition. He was particularly fond of the rigours of survival courses, which he believed prepared him for any contingency. As a commander, he was exceptionally concerned with the safety and well-being of those who were under his command. Immediately after completing his course of training outside the country in 1978, he was selected for an exploration mission. When his unit met enemy forces in Zeerust, Molokoane was shot in the leg, but he managed to outmaneuver his opponents and complete the 200km retreat to base. His tactical ingenuity and leadership were recognised, and he was soon promoted to become a commander. From 1978 until 1985 – when he was killed – Molokoane led repeated missions into the country, undertaking several dangerous missions, including the sabotage of the Sasol Plant, and the shelling of the headquarters of the South African Defense Force in Voortrekkerhoogte. After sabotaging the industrial complex at Secunda, his unit was intercepted by enemy forces. From the reconstruction of events based on local eye-witness accounts, the battle which had ensued had lasted for four hours in which the three members of 158

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue the unit fought courageously until the end, when their opponents dropped a napalm bomb, incinerating them instantly. As a soldier in the ANC’s military wing, Umkhonto we Sizwe, MK, “Buda” as his closest friends had called him affectionately, was effective in both underground and public work. He will forever be remembered for his exceptional bravery, his total dedication to the cause of freedom, and for his rousing leadership which inspired the loyalty and trust of those he commanded. For his inspiring leadership, his exceptional bravery and readiness to risk his life fighting for liberation, the South African Government bestowed Richard Barney Lekgotla Molokoane with the order of Mendi for Bravery in Gold at the National Orders Awards Ceremony on 19 October 2004. “The Barney Molokoane Community Games is an annual event that is hosted by the City of Johannesburg’s Sports and Recreation Department in Region D and Ward 21 in Tladi and Moletsane, Soweto. The tournament was formed to honour the late political activist, Barney “Buda” Molokoane. The games take place at the Moletsane Sports Complex. About one thousand players from Tladi and Moletsane take part in various games of the competition, including basketball, soccer, netball, volleyball, tennis, indigenous games, cycling and others. The aim of the games is to teach the youth about the values such as bravery, commitment and discipline.” – Councilor Mahlomola Kekana says during the proceedings. The book launch on the 14th of February in 2014, was a culmination of the efforts of the Naledi High School alumni, school governing body and the community of Naledi. It was a great honour to present 159

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe the book to the late Barney Molokane’s family; with his mother also being present. His brother received the book on behalf of the family. As has already been mentioned, Khotso Seatlholo’s wife and daughters received the book on the 13th of June in 2014 at the DOCC in Orlando, Soweto. On the 8th of June in 2013, five hundred books were given to the Grade 11 and 12 learners as a symbol of passing on, to them, the baton of determination and success, and of bringing back the glory that Naledi High School deserves as one of the nine Heritage schools in Soweto. During the school’s 50th anniversary celebrations, the Enos Ngutshane Assembly Square was unveiled and “The Letter” was handed over to the school for the class museum. The Classroom Museum is an ongoing project that needs more attention and Mr Maphosa, the curator, is committed to the cause. Of course, the milestones are insignificant without the improved matric results. Throughout the book, we have read how – over and over – the issue of the poor matric results have affected the legacy of the school. Significantly, in 2019, the school produced an overall matric pass rate of 87.2 %, with 52 distinctions. As the students were being interviewed by newspaper journalists, it was interesting to note that most of the students had attributed their good performance to the support that they were receiving at their homes; once again reminding us of the importance of building solid family structures as we endeavour to improve the quality of our education. 160

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue About The Author Eunice Rakhale-Molefe is the founder and owner of Book Tourism Trading (Pty) LTD an imprint of CEM Publishers. The company was established in 2009. Since then Eunice has published 22 titles (three of these her own) and 13 independent authors. One of these authors, Thembeka Cynthia Sesi, is a winner of the South African Pan African Language Board Award for 2016/2017 in the isiXhosa poems category. Of the 22 titles, ten titles are listed in the Gauteng Education and Training Department’s ESP Catalogue as library resources. 161

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