After Passing through Bethulie, we stopped on Southern Africa’s longest rail and road bridge, taking pictures of the confluence of the Caledon and Orange Rivers. We found the road south in good condition to open, as they say, the throttle. The scenery, as we raced through, comprised of a dry grassy terrain with a multitude of surrounding hills. Some were flat, some jagged, others were single or multi-capped. We bounded on, drunk with history, towards our next destination. We passed interesting small towns, each with its own history, waiting for its stories to be told.
Confluence of the Orange and Caledon Rivers
Memories
Our next stop was Lingelihle (‘Try Something Beautiful’), a township in Cradock. I was last here in July 1985 together with other activists to attend the funeral of Matthew Goniwe, Fort Calata, Sicelo Mhlauli and Sparrow Mkhonto, also known as the Cradock Four. All were abducted and murdered by the security police in June 1985. Their burnt, stabbed, and mutilated bodies were found days later. We had arrived by bus early the morning of Sunday, 21 July 1985, driving overnight from Johannesburg, and were warmly welcomed by residents. Groups of us were escorted to neighboring homes to wash and freshen up before the funeral. We all moved to the stadium for the funeral service.
Hundreds and thousands of toyi-toying activists from all corners of the country converged. It was at once a sad yet inspiring moment, some would say defining or seminal. Within minutes two large banners, one that of the African National Congress (ANC), and the other of the South African Communist Party (SACP), were unfurled and militantly hoisted. The crowd, and later the country, (on the evening’s news) were for the first time seeing such large flags and such a brazen, and defiant display of the colours of banned organisations. The bold colours, symbolising power and pride, were stark against the dry winter landscape. Hope had been diminishing as the Apartheid government jailed or killed leaders and activists. And the crowd’s response was electric as they simultaneously burst into song. The energy was mesmerizing. We could feel and taste freedom, it was so close. In real terms, another 9 years of terror and pain with much behind-the-scene negotiations.
Once the speeches were over, the crowd marched to the nearby cemetery, mournfully singing Senzeni Na “what have we done”. The four were laid to rest, inspiring others to continue the struggle. The crowds slowly dispersed while the security policy and army watched from the distant hilltops. The government immediately imposed a State of Emergency, arresting thousands overnight and over the following days and months. Our bus raced through various back roads evading road blocks. That evening, minutes before reaching home, the security police stopped us. After being sworn at, threatened and verbally abused, our entire bus was herded into the Protea police station precinct. Terrified, we were finger printed, photographed and bundled into cold, dusty individual cells. We were detained without being charged, some for many long months.
Cemetery
Lingelihle has mushroomed over the last 36 years and was barely recognisable. There are many more houses, more tarred roads, but as many gravel roads. It depicted townships across the country – small boxed homes, not all with electricity and running water, but more schools, shops and churches. Sadly, insufficient improvement in people’s lives with poor service delivery and limited jobs. Scores of young people roamed the streets like that of other townships facing an uncertain future.
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Lingelihle Cemetery
It took us a while to find the cemetery and then the graves. Some years back raw sewerage had run-over into the cemetery. We had also heard that the Cradock Four’s graves were vandalised. While the cemetery was not well kept, we were relieved to see that the Cradock Four’s graves were cordoned off and maintained. We stood in silence. Each with our own thoughts. I, with my memories of that day, of that period.
The Cradock 4 Graves
It did not go amiss that the Cradock Four would have been in their mid-seventies by now. They had been hugely successful in organizing the Cradock community. This included resident, youth, women, student, and worker organizations. All were jointly coordinated with street committees to effect political campaigns, communication, education, boycotts and other activities. They inspired movements across the country with their discipline, organisation, political maturity and militancy. The Cradock Four crucially also played a role in the Eastern Cape United Democratic Front (UDF), formed by 600+ organisations to end Apartheid.
Cradock 4 Garden of Remembrance
We drove to the Cradock 4 Garden of Remembrance, the memorial site established on the hilltop, once the security forces’ vantage point. Fitting. The site has a meandering garden with different pathways, a coffee shop, an amphitheater, offices and seminar rooms. Standing tall were four huge pillars, each more than 30 meters high, symbolizing a pillar of the struggle: mass action, political underground, armed struggle, and international solidarity. On each pillar were the names of Matthew Goniwe, Fort Calata, Sicelo Mhlauli and Sparrow Mkhonto with their life stories on a plaque on a separate stand.
On the pathway to the pillars were more plaques and write-ups of the history of the Cradock organisations. Lists of Cradock activists and leaders, including those that served time on Robben Island were displayed. Interestingly, the names of those tried and sentenced for creating, and boldly raising the two flags were also listed. I wondered if they were still alive, what they were doing and their current thoughts. We left noticing that the Garden of Remembrance is in need of repair and maintenance.
ALUTA CONTINUA
The memory of the Cradock Four lives on but sadly does not. A once proud, ungovernable but organised township, like many others, appears to be no more. We left saddened at our collective failure to continue the work of the Cradock Four, yet committed, each in our own way, to make a difference. The struggle does indeed continue.
Thank you, my brother and comrade, for sharing this journey, this voyage of keeping the names and places of the valiant struggle against Apartheid tyranny alive with these heart-rending photographs and you and the family’s travel to a sacred site, and a slice of history that every South African, especially young South Africans should know and be taught about.
Once again, breathtaking and deeply heartfelt.
The photography comes alive!
And as always, thank you for reminding and teaching us of such hallowed places, where the resistance to Apartheid hegemony burned bright and the names of the martyrs to freedom and democracy cannot ever be forgotten or lost in the margins of history and indeed of the shared South African collective memory.
Aluta Continua ✊🏾
I didn’t know that you were at that funeral. Thinking of their murder still sends a cold chill down my spine. Thank you for reminding us that we should pay homage to our fallen comrades when we travel. Beautiful writing and pictures…
Beautifully written and accurately capturing the emotions you experienced on your journey.
Thanks for sharing.
Quite a fresh reminder. I was part of a group of students from Fort Hare that attended the funeral and was one of the few photographers that took pictures of the funeral procession. Thanks for the enlightening refresher’s course and hopefully will revisit the place I last visited in 1985.