RaDical MiDDle - ColdType

40 | DENIS BECkETT
grin he mastered so well – his worst enemy would agree he had
wonderful laconic humour – and said “I don’t suppose we’ll see
each other again”.
“What gives?” I asked.
“They probably take us to segregated execution chambers”,
said Percy.
It turned out that Vorster, no less, had summonsed him at
lunchtime and in Percy’s words “shat me out from ten miles
high”. Now Vorster was going to get tomorrow’s paper and
think: Jeez, that cheeky ou walks right out of here and look
what he writes.
We thought of recalling copies, recalling compositors,
recalling machine minders, and doing it all again. We thought
of it, gave it up, and went upstairs for a beer. Percy was amused
that Vorster called him “Mr editor”. “He obviously can’t handle
‘Qoboza’”, said Percy, “but at least ‘editor’ is better than all
those guys who call me ‘Kwabuza’”. (The Q has a pop, like a
champagne cork.)
On Monday, October 17, I went to the eastern cape to check
on the health and welfare of our reporters there. Monday
was in Port elizabeth, a delightful introduction to the cradle
of the aNc. Tuesday with Owen Vanqa, our man in east
London; a call on Donald Woods, editor of the Daily Dispatch,
in his picturebook antique office. Then Kingwilliamstown and
Zanempilo clinic, one of the memorials of the late Steve Biko.
Steve’s cousin Malusi Mpumlwana showed us round and I was
genuinely impressed. (already in those days I was attuning to
disillusion in the reality behind the liberation projects lauded
in the newspapers). I went on to umtata. Marcus Ngani, our
bureau chief, i.e. resident reporter, told me aggrey had been
phoning, I must call him urgently. It was night by now. aggrey
wasn’t at the office and didn’t have a home phone (hardly
anyone did in Soweto.) So Marcus and I ate the best the Holiday
Inn had to offer and called it quits.
I never did get back to aggrey. Next morning he was in jail.
the World and Weekend World were banned. Donald Woods was