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RaDical MiDDle - ColdType

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38 | denis beckett<br />

leaders aimed at deterring violence by counteracting the causes<br />

of violence, which is to say: make the revolution unnecessary<br />

by getting the government to change policy.<br />

This was a sensitive arena at a sensitive time, and I guess my<br />

point didn’t always come across 100% the way I wanted it to.<br />

Try as I might, Percy faced flak from his pals, especially when I<br />

touched on recognising why whites were frightened. Now Vorster<br />

and Kruger attacked the weekend paper disproportionately, and<br />

particularly its recurring observation that violence wouldn’t<br />

end until the blacks and the whites were the same citizens of<br />

the same country.<br />

On a Sunday morning in September, Patrick Laurence of<br />

the Rand Daily Mail phoned early and suggested Gael and I<br />

meet him and his then-wife Vita, now in australia, at the trimpark<br />

in empire road. We sat under a fantastic spring sky while<br />

Patrick played a tape of a speech Jimmy Kruger had made in<br />

Bloemfontein the night before. It included a sustained attack<br />

on last week’s Weekend World leader. I’d been trying to get a<br />

message to the stone-throwers and the panga-wielders that<br />

while their anger etc was understandable, nonetheless they<br />

weren’t helping by spreading chaos. Kruger, fury dripping off the<br />

tape, quoted phrases while the audience screamed “Skande!”,<br />

“Vat Hulle!” (Shame! Get them!) and the like.<br />

In my belief Kruger was quoting worse than selectively. He<br />

was quoting backwards. He latched on to the understandableanger<br />

bits with which I’d tried to get entry into the mind of<br />

whatever putative klipgooier (stone-thrower) was reading the<br />

leaders of Weekend World, and he ignored the but-nonetheless<br />

bits. It came out sounding like I was calling for killing, looting,<br />

burning, rape, the lot. I hardly blamed his audience for howling<br />

for blood, but I got a hell of a fright that he could have read it<br />

that way.<br />

I smelled trouble, and trouble came closer. On September 13<br />

Percy burst into the Weekend’s Tuesday morning get-together,<br />

shaking, in tears, he could hardly speak. He got it out: “they’ve<br />

killed Steve.”

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