JUNE 1976 Tribute Book (2) Ebook

June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue

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Tribute

June 1976

Commemorative

Dialogue

i

Eunice Rakhale-Molefe

ii


Tribute

June 1976

Commemorative Dialogue


iii


Copyright ©2021 Eunice Rakhale-Molefe

BOOK TOURISM

An Imprint Of

CEM Publishers

info@booktourismsa.com

www.booktourism.co.za

Scribe Elias Thebe Rakhale

Edited by Victor Mecoamere

Cover design by Christo Wolmarans

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or

transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior

permission from the author or in accordance with the

provisions of the Copyright Act 1956

(As amended).

First Published in JHB South Africa

2012 as a coffee table book

Republished 2021

ISBN 978-0-620-54937-0

ESP Catalogue

Learner Teacher Study Material

Library Resource (L.T.S.M) Senior Phase

Gauteng Department of Basic Education.

iv


Dedication

To my father and mother, Fume Johannes and Sebane

Elsina Rakhale. My father, who – even though he was

illiterate – had introduced me to reading by bringing

old Reader's Digest magazines and copies of The

Sunday Times newspapers from his place of

employment; and my mother, who believed in my craft

as a writer and made a huge personal sacrifice to ensure

that my vision, both as a writer and publisher, could

happen.

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Heritage and Legacy Building Since 2009

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Preamble

Introduction

Contents

11

12

1 THE SCHOOL’S HERITAGE

Founding Headmasters, Alumni and Academia

With the headmaster Mr Kenny Mavatulana

Memorial Structures and The Classroom Museum

With Educator Mr Tshepo Maphosa

2 HISTORICAL BACKGROUND

Naledi High School in the 60’s

With Willie Bokala

Soccer – Sir Stanley Matthew’s Men

With Ruskin Movers Malobela

3 THE ROLE OF POLITICS

The Multiparty Approach

Philosophy Diversity

With David Kutumela

4 THE ROLE OF CHRISTIANITY

The Christian Youth Club

Liberation Theology

Teen Outreach Program

With Rev. P-N Raboroko Sr.

5 STUDENT LEADERSHIP

Academic Excellence

With Reverend Frank Chikane

Political Consciousness

With Sibongile Mkhabela

16

28

41

50

62

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The Head Boy

With Popo Simon Molefe

The Head Girl

With Zanele Mthembu

6 8TH JUNE 1976 ROOM 8

The June 16 1976 March and Route

With Educator Mr Andrew Moeletsi

7 THE LETTER

Life in Zola Township Soweto

Leadership and Political Grooming

Afrikaans As a Medium of Instruction

Writing the Letter

With Enos Ngutshane

8 16 TH JUNE 1976

Meeting Khotso Seatlholo

Student Leaders

An Ordinarily Innocent Day

With Oupa Ngwenya

9 GOVERNANCE AND GUIDANCE

The School Governing Body

With Oupa Molapisi

Life Skills

With Lucky Ganzin

10 THE HUMAN STORY

Wednesday 16th June 1976

Milestones of The Heritage Book Project

92

99

123

137

148

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Acknowledgments

T

his book would never have happened without

the support of Naledi High School headmaster

Kenny Mavatulana and the school’s governing

body under the leadership of Thusi and Keneilwe

Losaba, the heritage committee members, including

Gift Ganzin, especially for their belief in the vision of

this Heritage Book project.

I also wish to acknowledge the educators – among

others – Andrew Moeletsi and Tshepo Maphosa, who

have a commendable desire to see Naledi High School

being restored back to its former glory of academic,

sporting and cultural excellence. I am also extremely

grateful for the contributions of the Naledi High

School alumni for availing their valuable work and

family time to share their stories to inspire the learners

to improve their academic performance, especially

regarding the improvement of the poor matric results.

My heartfelt gratitude also goes to Reverend PN

Raboroko Sr, Willie Bokala, Ruskin Movers Malobela,

Reverend Frank Chikane, Dr Popo Molefe, David

Kutumela, Sibongile Mkhabela née Mthembu, Zanele

Mthembu, Enos Ngutshane, Oupa Ngwenya, Oupa

Molapisi and Lucky Ganzin.

Finally, I wrote the book at a time when I was going

through difficulties in my personal life. I thank God for

having carried me through it all, and for having enabled

me to complete this book project, despite the odds.

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Preamble

I

am a former student of Musi High School in

Pimville, Soweto, which is one of the nine

Soweto Heritage Schools in Soweto. I joined the

school in 1971 – which was under the leadership of the

then headmaster, Mr Xorile, whose deputy was

popularly known as “Ntate”. I matriculated in 1975.

My school life was greatly influenced by the late Mr

Maphosa, who was my English teacher and a

neighbour in Moletsane, Soweto. Socially, I had relied

heavily on reading. I used to read the Readers Digest,

which my late father used to collect from his employer.

Additionally, I was a member of the Moroka Public

Library in Rockville, also in Soweto. To this day, I am

still a card-carrying member of the local library, which

now has the benefit of universal access to all other

libraries across the land.

As was the case with many of my peers, politically,

it was mostly university students who had raised our

consciousness while they were volunteering to give us

extra lessons. These had included the late National

Police Commissioner, Jackie Selebi.

He used to remind us of our collective identity as

young black girls. “Never forget that you are an African

young woman, and that your beauty comes from your

blackness and the texture of your hair. And do not

believe anything else about yourself,” Selebi constantly,

inculcate the Black Consciousness Movement

philosophy in us.

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Introduction

T

he idea of writing about the heritage of June

1976 emerged while I was still in the restaurant

business. As part of our topical events

calendar, I hosted a 16 June 1976 commemorative

conversation dinner at the restaurant. No one had

pitched up, except for my niece and her friends. A few

weeks later, another event had come up. This time, we

were celebrating St Patrick’s Day. Of course, the

restaurant was full, including the whole of the Design

Quarters. At this stage, I did not even know who St

Patrick was, and why I was celebrating him. This had

filled me with great sadness. There I was, celebrating a

heritage about, which I knew nothing at all; yet, a few

weeks earlier, nobody had come to celebrate our own

heritage. From then on, I was burdened with the

responsibility of ensuring that June 16 would be

celebrated in the way it should be: The right way. This

turning point had occurred in 2010!

In documenting the history of June 1976, I wanted

a different take, altogether. I was looking for the

unique stories of the legacy of June 1976. Even though

I am an alumnus of one of the nine heritage schools in

Soweto, namely Musi High School in Pimville, I had

thought that it would be sensible to start at the

beginning, and where the momentous event had truly

started – before the 16 th of June, 1976; precisely the 8 th

of June 1976 – at Naledi High School.

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This is where I met the headmaster, Kenny

Mavatulana, another Musi High alumnus. We did not

know each other then, as he had been ahead of me at

Musi High School. Mavatulana gave an audience to my

presentation. The next step was to meet the former

students, themselves. In 2012, the African National

Congress, ANC Centenary Celebrations gave an

opportunity to such a meeting. The Centenary torch

was travelling around the country and, on this day, it

was to be hosted at Naledi Hall Soweto. It was here

that Mavatulana had introduced me to some of the

living heroes of June 1976.

The first person I met was Zanele Mthembu,

followed by Enos Ngutshane, then David Kutumela,

Wire Khoali and Tseke Morathi. The timing was right,

as the school was about to celebrate its fiftieth

anniversary in 2013, and the Heritage book project was

to form part of the celebrations. A committee of

former students had already been in existence and

there was a register that was kept by the principal, with

all their details. At their next meeting, the principal had

arranged for me to present the book proposal to the

committee. And it was agreed that the book had to be

a pictorial coffee table book. The centenary celebration

was a momentous experience for me. Second to my

first vote in 1994, it was one of the most historic

moments of my life. The Centenary torch was to arrive

in the early hours of the morning, at 6am, to be exact.

We had gathered in the school’s boardroom at 5am,

ready to later walk to the Naledi hall next door. The

governing body members had organised homemade

soup with bread rolls as breakfast for our guests.

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As this was taking place in winter and 5am was dark

and cold, the soup was a good choice of menu. Later –

once the proceedings were underway, and as the

Naledi High School June 16 heroes were holding the

torch with excitement – I heard one of them say, in a

loud voice:

“We are here, and alive! Thank GOD, we are alive!

It is on this day that the spirit of the book had come

alive! Naledi high school is part of the National Heritage

June 16 Trail and the 8 th of June was earmarked as an

ideal historical date to coincide with the school’s 50 th

anniversary. In preparation for this important

milestone, an advocacy function was held at the

Booysens Hotel in Booysens, Johannesburg in March.

At the event, one of the school's alumni, Zanele

Mthembu, who is the chief director of the Gauteng

Department of Education, challenged the pupils,

parents, teachers, Mavatulana and her fellow alumni to

set an example of self-reliance by contributing towards

the funding which was required for the school's

ambitious revival campaign – before seeking

sponsorship from outside. This idea turned out to be

the best advice, which had led to the success of the

school’s 50 th anniversary celebrations. The school’s

learners of Naledi High had already bought into the

project with their own fundraising initiatives and, by

now, were meeting their targets. Later, as the heritage

school book project was coming along, remarking

about the significance of the book, Mavatulana had

said: “If our children can learn the best from who we are, then

we can secure ourselves the best future.”

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Above: Naledi High School Learners

receiving copies of the heritage book during

the 50 th Anniversary Celebrations. Below:

The school choir entertaining the guests at

the event.

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1

The School’s Heritage

Founding Headmasters, Alumni

And Academia

“A school is an institution that is concerned about the learners’

academic performance. Unless we address the school’s

performance, we cannot truly celebrate. In celebrating the 50th

academic year, with great care and thoroughness, strong

management structures and acceptable education standards have

been put in place, giving us light at the end of the tunnel.” –

Former Naledi High School headmaster Kenny

Mavatulana.

H

aving visited several schools in preparation for

this Heritage Book project, I have now realised

how busy school principals can be. I also

realised that having a confirmed appointment with the

administrator in the principals’ office did not

necessarily guarantee one an appointment with the

principal.

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And I have also noticed that such a confirmation

could just be a matter of formality. Instead of

welcoming me, the principal could be dealing with

other urgent issues.

It may be a parent who is faced with a lifethreatening

matter at home, and could desperately

requiring the school to intervene for the learner to be

able to attend class. Or it could be learner waiting for

a disciplinary hearing. Or the principal might have been

called urgently to the local education department’s

District Office. Worse still, after waiting for the school

principal to return from the District Office, the

boardroom is being prepared for a meeting as the

Learner Representatives Council members begin to

walk in for a scheduled meeting with the self-same

principal. From where I am sitting, the school is not

any different from the reception area of a corporate

entity. I finally get an interview with Mavatulana, which

is held in his office. His assistant offers me a cup of

tea.

While I am filled with gratitude, I am sensitive to his

time. We reminiscence over Musi High School, our

alma mater and, soon, we are engaged in a deep analysis

of our previous school’s principals and comparing

them with Naledi High School’s former school

headmasters. As I record and write, he remarks: “Are

we doing the interview, already? I thought there was

going to be some formalities!” Too late… the

conversation was already way ahead of itself, as we

continued to deal with the history of the school.

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Founding Head Masters

“Naledi High School was established on 8 June

1963. This date came to be a significant date in the

school’s life and history, and this shall be evident as

you read on. The school was built during an era when

the government’s intention was not to build high

schools in the townships, so as to redirect the

qualifying students to the homelands, where they could

be moulded into the Apartheid model of thinking.

“Naledi High School’s location forms part of the

western border of Soweto, which was commonly

referred to as the “Wild West” of Soweto, and was

surrounded by what was then a large farming area

which had been meant to service the primary schools

in Tladi, Zola, Emndeni and Moletsane.

Below are Naledi High School’s headmasters

over the past five decades

1. Mr Mtimkulu;

2. Mr Molope;

3. Mr Tsotetsi;

4. Mr Msimango;

5. Mr Hlabane, and;

6. Mr Mavatulana, the incumbent.

“Because of the role that they had played in the June

1976 Student Uprising, the nine schools have been

declared as the Heritage structures forming part of the

June 1976 Students’ Anti-Bantu Education Protest

March Trail. Among many other great leaders, the nine

Heritage Schools have produced a state president and

a Deputy President, respectively. Notably, Sekano

Ntoane High School in Senaoane, has nurtured South

African President Cyril Ramaphosa,

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while Meadowlands High School in Meadowlands, is

former president Kgalema Motlanthe’s alma mater.

Soweto Heritage schools

1. Madibane High School in Diepkloof;

2. Meadowlands High School in Meadowlands;

3. Morris Isaacson High School in Central Western

Jabavu;

4. Musi High School in Pimville;

5. Naledi High School in Naledi;

6. Orlando High School in Orlando East;

7. Orlando West High School in Orlando West;

8. Sekano Ntoane High School in Senaoane, and;

9. Mbuyisa Makhubo Primary School in Orlando

West.

Notable Alumni from the Heritage Schools

“The top most civil servant, Reverend Frank Chikane,

who is formerly the director-general in the office of

former President Thabo Mbeki, comes from Naledi

High School. Dr Popo Molefe, the Premier of North

West, also comes from the same school, as does Dan

Mofokeng, who became a notable figure in the

country’s military.

“The science faculty is graced by the likes of Lucky

Ganzin and Tseke Morathi. Additionally, South Africa

had the privilege of representing the African continent

through Morathi, while he was in exile in Tanzania. He

had been nominated as a student of excellence, for

which he had secured a bursary to study overseas. The

Ganzin family continued to play a major role in

preserving the legacy of the school, with Gift Ganzin

having diligently served on the organising committee

of the school’s 50th anniversary celebrations.

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The education sector is well represented by

Gauteng Education Department Chief Director

Zanele Mthembu, who is a true foot soldier and former

head girl of 1976 at Naledi High School. Mthembu was

one of the girls who were at the forefront of the

students’ protest march, together with Sibongile

Mkhabela, who has served as the Chief Executive

Officer of the Nelson Mandela Children's Fund.

“In the media, Naledi High School has been

represented by former Sowetan news editor Willie

Bokala and columnist Oupa Ngwenya, former SABC

acting Chief Operations Officer Mike Siluma, as well

as Wire Khoali, who was previously at the helm at

Lesedi FM. Naledi High School has nurtured several

top students who have excelled in business studies and

had then played a pivotal in the business arena, locally,

regionally and nationally. These have included Isaac

Motaung, a commercial lawyer who formerly sat in the

management team of one of the largest retail outlets in

the country. Anybody who knows the history of the school

might remember people like Mr Mtimkulu and Mr Molope,

the headmasters who were managing the school during the

student uprising, and used to avail the school for political

meetings, albeit under the guise of religious purposes.

Unsurprisingly, Reverend Chikane used to fondly refer to

Mtimkulu and Molope as the Umkhonto we Sizwe, MK’s of

the education system.

“The visit by former State President Jacob Zuma in

2012, confirmed the school’s place among the nine

Heritage Schools in Soweto that had contributed

immensely to the struggle for liberation. On 8 June

1976, the students at Naledi High School took security

forces head-on and burned their car. For the first time,

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the country had witnessed an open defiance of the

Apartheid system by young people. Until this time, it

had always been the labour movements and political

organisations that had been protesting. The youth of

Naledi High School had set a new record!

“The news of the students protests had

subsequently spilled over onto Robben Island, as has

been witnessed by the late former State President, Dr

Nelson Mandela, in his book, The Illustrated Long

Walk to Freedom (p148):

‘In June 1976, we began to hear vague reports of a great

uprising in the country. It was only when the first young prisoners,

who had been involved in the June 16 student’s uprising, began

to arrive on Robben Island in August that we learned what had

truly happened. Suddenly, the young people of South Africa were

fired up with the spirit of protest and rebellion. Bantu Education

had come back to haunt its creators, for these angry and

audacious young people were its progeny.’” He continued:

‘These young men were a different breed of prisoners from those

we had seen before. They were brave, hostile and aggressive; they

would not take orders and shouted: “Amandla!” at every

opportunity. This was our first exposure to the Black

Consciousness Movement. With the banning of the ANC, PAC

and SA Communist Party, the Black Consciousness Movement

helped fill the vacuum among young people.’

“The 16 th of June 2012 saw the final vindication of

where the school stood in the history of the liberation

struggle when the Centenary Torch came to Naledi

Hall. With the ANC being 100 years old – though

prematurely – and the school being 50 years old,

confirms the fact that Naledi High School is a child of

the country’s political struggle. The school would like

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to take the legacy forward, and to ensure that students

learn about its place in history.

Illustratively, having young Ntsako Mkhabela

running a programme that supports learning and

teaching at the school, for me translates to the rallying

call: “Aluta Continua!” Bongi Mkhabela, a former

student of Naledi High School, has seemingly passed

on the baton to her daughter, and has surely done a

fantastic job in the process. Ntsako has been given a

great task and she seems to be up to the challenge –

once again proving that, if our children can learn from

the best about who we really are, we can secure the best

future for ourselves.

Academic Performance

“A school is an institution that is concerned about

powerful academic performance. Unless we address

the school’s performance, we cannot truly celebrate the

fruits of our collective effort. Sadly, in the past thirty

years, the matriculation results at Naledi High School

had been inconsistent, and had been repeatedly and

rapidly falling, rising, then falling – fluctuating, like a

yoyo – and had turned the school into an underperforming

educational institution – which has turned

a compromising position, indeed. Coinciding with the

celebration of the school’s 50th academic year – with

great care and thoroughness – strong management

structures and appropriate education standards were

implemented to give us a light at the end of the tunnel,

which had resulted in a 76.4 percent matric pass in

2012 and an 81 percent matric pass in 2013.

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“For a historic centre, the school has produced

great giants who had made great strides in various

social, economic, cultural, political and sporting

spheres across the country and the world, but the poor

results had sadly hindered a healthy relationship with

some of its former students. The aim of celebrating the

heritage of Naledi High School is to inspire learners to

bring the school back to its former glory. The graph

has continued to grow, as was seen in 2019, through an

overall improvement of 87.2 percent matric pass rate,

which was a difference of 16.2 percent from the 2018

matriculation results and a 25.7 percent difference

from the 2017 matriculation results. By then, the

school had obtained an overall of 52 distinctions. Of

these, two were in Business Studies and 50 in Life

Orientation. The school has also claimed a 100 percent

pass rate in Business Studies, Setswana and English.

Significantly, the parents at Naledi High School had

also started to play a meaningful role in helping to

improve their children’s academic performances.

The school’s governing body chairperson Mrs

Thusi and its secretary Ms Keneilwe Losaba, both of

whom are coincidentally former learners at the school,

have shown great passion in their respective leadership

roles. They have also been keen to replicate the proud

history of the school in terms of excellence in academic

performance and sporting and cultural excellence.

They from part of the team that has worked together

with the teachers to improve the poor matric results,

which had negatively affected the image of the school.

The proactive role that has been played by the school’s

Representative Council of Learners (RCL) who serve

on the School Governing Body (SGB) is a reminder of

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the leadership quality of the school’s June 1976

stalwarts. The aim of commemorating the fiftieth

anniversary of the school is to create a sense of pride

and duty for our students, and to show them, exactly,

what the education system can do for them. We want

to do away with the “DJ Generation,” which has

cheapened our education system, and to ensure that

education takes a vital space in their hearts.

As I emerge from the headmaster’s office, I bump

into a horde of students who are rushing back to class

after their lunch break, and I reflect on how rewarding

this interview had been. Mavatulana had given me a

comprehensive overview of the school, and had also

outlined what he was hoping the school book project

would achieve. This was going to help me in mapping

out a course that we would have needed to navigate, as

well as the requisite storytelling that would positively

impact the lives of the current learners, and would help

to motivate them to want to do better. And knowing

that those who came before them were normal learners

just like them, but had chosen to work hard to achieve

excellence. And to remind them that their predecessors

had sought change – both as individuals and a

collective, for the creation of a better image for the

school. But, first, I had to visit the school’s classroom

museum, as the headmaster had insisted, earlier.

Outside, Tshepo Maphosa was waiting for me, and we

had promptly started off at the memorial plaque in

front of the school’s administration block.

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Memorial Structures

And The Classroom Museum

“My priority is in teaching and ensuring a pass grade that will

usher the learners into a secure future. Secondary to that I am a

historian, passionate about the dynamics of the politics of South

Africa. I feel privileged to be walking the grounds daily where

history took place.” – Tshepo Maphosa, an educator at

Naledi High School.

O

n 1 July 1974, there was a bus accident that had

involved a number of pupils from the school

and ten died. Today there is a plaque recording

the much-publicised Lourenco Marques Bus Disaster

and its victims in the school grounds. The plaque was

unveiled thirty years after the accident on 16 June 2004

by Education Minister Angie Motshekga, who was

then the Gauteng Education MEC. As we stand in

front of the 1974 Lourenco Marques Bus Disaster

Commemoration Plague in the school yard, educator

Tshepo Maphosa reveals that the Naledi High School

alumnus and the community of Naledi had been

pivotal in working together to ensure that the plaque

should be erected. Zanele Mthembu, who was part of

the committee that had been charged with the

construction of the memorial structure, concurs and

adds:

25


“It was imperative that there should be a memorial around

the loss of our fellow students and teacher. Some individuals never

recovered from the trauma of the disaster.”

As we silently stood in front of the memorial

plague, lost for words, I suddenly remembered two of

the learners who were among the deceased, Lydia and

Selina, who were my schoolmates in Primary school.

Lest we forget them…

Lourenco Marques 1974 Bus Disaster Memorial

Lydia Saohatse, who was born on 7 October 1956;

Abram Aphane, who was born on 11 April 1952;

Rosina S Matsie, who was born on 27 March 1959;

Mabel Radikonyana, who was born on 15August 1953

Moses Makhutle, who was born on 1 November 1948;

Jabulane D Mota, who was born on 29th July 1956;

Boiki Ditjoe, who was born on 17th October 1953;

Lorraine N Maeta, who was born on 15th May 1957;

Selina Sejake, who was born on 13 October 1954, and;

Ellen Matlhare, who was born on 15 July 1953.

Speaking to Maphosa brought back memories of his

late father, who was my English teacher at Musi High

School in Pimville, Soweto. His love for literature had

greatly influenced my life. He used to turn a boring

book like Shane, our set work, into a beautiful piece of

work. Unlike other teachers, he never carried a bag to

class, just one book per class, per subject; that’s all.

Always immaculately dressed, Mr Maphosa was also a

good family man, who was imbued with strong

Christian values, and was also a minister who used to

specialise in youth development and marriage

counselling. He was my hero!

26


The cover photo of the book was taken in the

school classroom during a tour of the museum.

Explaining his role as the curator of the museum,

Maphosa, who is coincidentally the son of my former

teacher, had elaborated: “The purpose of the school

classroom museum is, first and foremost, to encourage

learners to aspire to greatness, knowing that they walk

in the footsteps of great men and women who fought

and died for our freedom. “Secondly, the museum

offers an opportunity for the school and the local

community of Naledi to celebrate the school’s history

and heritage.

“Naledi High celebrated its 50 th anniversary in 2013.

The school forms part of the Commemorative Historic

Trail of the June 16, 1976 March. As the curator of the

museum, my duty is to accurately preserve the role that

the school has played in the history of June 16, and (to

ensure) that irreplaceable documents are properly

preserved. The classroom museum serves to celebrate

this unique history in which the school features as one

of the nine Heritage Schools of Soweto.

“As the liberation struggle partisans began to visit

the school after 1995, some of the creative learners

made pencil portraits of the guests. These form part of

the wall display. The wall is filled with signatures of

honorary visitors, next to their compliments and

comments. The museum display also features objects

that give a picture of what it was like to be a student in

1976. The uncomfortable two-seater desks; the black

and white school uniforms, tyres, stones and many

other items forming part of the paraphernalia that the

students had used to defend themselves against the

police officers’ teargas and guns. The school already

27


has a long-established alumni register. The headmaster,

Mr Mavatulana, has gone to great lengths to ensure that

the register is updated, and he is keeping in touch with

the former students.’’

Above: Naledi High Heritage School old

classrooms. Below: The new classrooms.

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2

Historical Background

Naledi High School

In The Sixties

“Those were the days; when every parent wanted their child to

attend Naledi Secondary School. My father was no different. The

schools were branded around their headmasters, who they were,

what they stood for, their school results and the type of students

they produced. – Willie Bokala, a former Naledi High

School student and former Sowetan News Editor

W

illie Bokala is formerly an award-winning

journalist for the Sowetan newspaper. As with

many retirees, he is far busier than when he

was working fulltime, as a journalist. Through his wife,

Glory Bokala, who is a schoolteacher at Naledi High

School, we managed to secure an appointment and met

in Dobsonville, Soweto.

29


On time for our appointment, we find him ready and

waiting and busy, feeding his dog. After brief

introductions and familiarities, like a true professional,

Bokala dives straight into the interview.

“The sixties were days of (the) harsh realities of life

at Naledi Secondary School,” Bokala reflects with the

typically photographic mind of a journalist. “Your

status was determined by your lunch menu. Whether

your lunch was made of fat cakes stuffed with

suspiciously dodgy liver spread and Atchaar or – for

the more affluent student – a few fat cakes with lots of

chips, polonies and Atchaar. These (were the types of)

students (who) would sit (at the) front (in) the

classroom, so that they could display their fancy lunch.

The students with less fancy lunches would sit at the

back. Your lunch determined your social position and

where you would sit. The former (those with inferior

lunch boxes) sat at the back of the class, on empty

crates.

“Those were (the) days, also, when wearing school

uniform saved you from the “Blackjacks” (local police

who would be found) prowling the township streets at

night for those who did not have a “Special”. This was

a document permitting “non-whites” – as Africans

were referred to, during Apartheid – to move around

predominantly white neighbourhoods at night. Those

were also the days when every parent wanted their

child to attend Naledi Secondary School. My father was

no different. This was the school that had produced

the best results in what used to be known as the

Transvaal, beating several other legendary schools,

including the Morris Isaacson and Orlando High

Schools. The schools were branded around their

30


headmasters; who they were, what they stood for, their

school results and the type of students they produced.

The school principal, Mr Rudolph Mtimkulu, was a

soccer fanatic who loved the school dearly. He would

be often seen patrolling the school grounds dressed in

the school’s colours which were black and white, which

were complemented by grey trousers. These colors

served a dual purpose, as they also happened to be the

colours of his favourite soccer team, Orlando Pirates.

I believe that at some point, he was the deputy

chairperson of the “Buccaneers” – as the club was

commonly known.

Academic Performance

“I was one of the not so intelligent students. The

classes (that were designated the symbols) A to C were

for the intellectuals. The rest were for the academically

challenged students like myself, the “Wonke–Wonke”

class, as I had called it, then. This rule – however – did

not apply to those students that did not come from the

same feeder schools. The students who were from

outside the feeder schools were allocated one

classroom, irrespective of their academic record. I was

one such student, as I came from Kimberly in the

Northern Cape.

“This strange allocation had positioned me

favourably, though, and allowed me to share a class

with one of the most intelligent individual our school

had ever produced, the late Dr Faith Modise

Matlaopane, who originated from Schweitzer Reneke

in the North West. Ours was a strange friendship, of

two extremely different individuals. One was highly

intelligent, while the other one was mediocre. It was a

case of opposites attract, sugar and salt, chalk and

31


cheese; but we were bonded by our love for soccer, and

being from the same neighborhood. While I studied

very hard, to be able to understand, Matlaopane never

seemed to be engrossed in his studies. With a soft brain

that seemed to absorb information easily, he simply

read and understood most if not all the things better

than most of us. There were several other intelligent

students, but no one matched Matlaopane. He topped

the class and the whole school, consistently, until he

attained his Junior Certificate (Grade 10) qualification.

Matlaopane went on to study medicine at the

University of Natal, and later completed his internship

at Groothoek in Mahwelereng (in the then Northern

Transvaal, and now known as Limpopo). Remarkably,

the late Dr Faith Modise Matlaopane was the first

Health MEC in Northern Cape during President

Nelson Mandela’s term of office.

“As a struggling student from the “Wonke-Wonke”

class, I failed most of the subjects; never English,

though. Speaking of a soft brain, mine could only

absorb the English language. My father was a great

reader. Sundays were for splashing out on all the

newspapers, including Sunday Times, Sunday Express and

Sunday Post. My Sundays were spent engrossed in a

variety of newspapers, fascinated by journalists like

Sydney Matlhaku – an entertainment reporter, and

“Doc” Bikitsha, a top columnist. Never one for formal

English books, I only read crime thrillers author James

Hardly Chase. Writing also came naturally to me. I

could sit and watch a soccer match and write a story

about what I had seen. With time, I started posting

these scribbled sports articles to The World newspaper.

Obviously, these were never published, as I had no clue

32


how the newspapers worked. Yet, I continued to write

and post my articles.

“It was while I was at Sekano-Ntoane High School,

where I matriculated, that I got a call from Lesley

Sehume, who was then the Sports Editor at The World.

Sehume took me on his team as a sports journalist. To

avoid missing the deadline, I had to give my report over

a “Dictaphone”. And this is how my career as a sport

journalist took off. Soon, thereafter, in 1975 to be

precise, I was deployed to the news department by

Percy Qoboza, who was then the News Editor. This

evoked a lot of tension and negativity between the two

men. Sehume had felt that, as a person who had

discovered me, I was destined for his department. But

Qoboza – on the other hand – was focusing on the

talent, potential and opportunity, and positioning my

career with the vision and direction of where the

newspaper was heading. The seventies were interesting

times in journalism. The print media was shifting from

reporting on crime and soccer – which the white

bosses had insisted on – to general news and politics.

The white journalists who wrote on politics

understood our politics better than us, because they

specialised in their areas of reporting, making them

experts. On the other hand, African journalists were

forced to write only on specific matters like soccer and

crime. As a news reporter, it was politics that had

appealed to me. I quickly had to teach myself politics.

I was able to achieve this by being actively involved in

the daily running of the relevant (community and

political) organisations. In other words, living the

struggle.

33


The politics of that era

“Being close to the political players and their

various activities oftentimes put me in awkward, yet

rewarding positions. I knew what the Mayor of

Soweto, Mr Tolika Makhaya, was up to while having

information about the activities of the South African

Students Organization, SASO, Black Peoples

Convention, BPC and South African Students

Movement, SASM. This awkward convenience paid

off eventually, as can be indicated by the article below,

which was published in the Sowetan's Twenty Fifth

Anniversary Coffee Table Book: “Willie Bokala and

Duma ka Ndlovu stuck close to the organisers of the June 16

March and gave the world their story as they hopped from one

hideout to another. We got to know of the Soweto Students

Representative Council, of the charismatic leader, Tsietsi

Mashinini and of his “Cabinet”, people like Khotso Seatlholo

and Murphy Morobe, through the writings of Bokala and

Ndlovu. This was The World’s story, as the flames engulfed the

country.”

“Understanding the structures of political

organizations (positioning) was critical because of the

banishment of many organizations. Black Peoples

Convention, BPC, for the masses, which was led by

Aubrey Mokoape; South African Students

Organization, SASO – for the students – which was led

by Aubrey Mokoena; the South African Students

Movement, SASM, which was led by Billy Masetlha

and Ndibe Motapanyane; National Youth

Organization, NAYO – the youth wing – which was

led by Zweli Sizani. These organisations were the

vehicles that were leading us to freedom. The politics

of the day were such that organisational membership

34


was not important, while critically focusing on the

common enemy was crucial. Sadly, we have lost sight

of the fact that this was what had pushed the liberation

struggle forward, often against all odds.

“The highlight of my career was when the Soweto

Urban Council was brought to its knees, with the

resignation of the entire executive council. The saga of

this episode will soon be disclosed in my upcoming

book, (The) Death of The Urban Bantu Council.

Music and Soccer

“We had quite a number of excellent teachers, but I

would like to single out a few. Mr Osmond Ferdinand,

an ardent classical music lover and a conductor of the

Johannesburg Symphony Orchestra, brought the

musical flair to the school, about which it became well

known. With him as the head of the music department,

the school became well-grounded in music and won

quite a few trophies in several music competitions. Mr

Zephaniah Senkgane was another exciting teacher and

a great sportsman, with an ideal athletic body. He ran

marathons and, unlike other soccer coaches, he himself

played soccer and served as a consulting coach for the

Transvaal Football Association of Teachers.

“The teachers used Naledi Secondary School as

their home ground, giving us an opportunity to watch

soccer at all levels. Unfortunately, the same could not

be said of his command of the English language, which

was hilarious to say the least. In addition to his strange

pronunciation, Senkgane liked ‘high sounding’ words,

with little meaning. Just thinking of him makes me

laugh! On the other hand, he was an excellent Sesotho

language teacher.

35


Finally, there was Mr Matlala, who taught Afrikaans

and was also a very dedicated teacher. The strength of

the school lay in the fact that the school had a team of

teachers who had all excelled in their respective

subjects; hence the quality of the students the school

has produced; as has been profiled in the book.

“As I have already mentioned, Naledi Secondary

School was the hub of good soccer. The school

became the unofficial soccer academy for professional

clubs to pick from. Patson ‘Kamuzu’ Banda, the

greatest goal keeper the country has ever produced,

was identified and picked by the school principal for

Orlando Pirates. The school team itself had the best

football team in South Africa, often beating all the

other schools’ football teams at regional, provincial

and national levels. At some point, Orlando Pirates,

who were then the ‘Champion of champions’, did not

have a team that qualified to challenge them and it was

recommended that the Naledi High School team be

appointed to challenge the ‘Champions’. The team was

eventually adopted by the legendary Sir Stanley

Mathews as one of his development programmes.

36


Soccer

Sir Stanley Matthews’ Men

A Profile Of Ruskin “Movers” Malobela

M

y talent was first spotted at an early age;

when I was aged around nine or ten. It was

my sport teacher, Mr Thulare, at Sediba

Thuto Primary School in Mapetla Extension, Soweto

who took notice of this gift. I came to Naledi High

School in 1972, being already involved in soccer, and

already playing for the local team, Naledi Roaring 40’s.

The environment was conducive to my soccer career

because of Naledi High School headmaster Mr

Rudolph Mtimkulu’s love for the sport. The school

was flooded with talented players. In some sense, it was

like a soccer academy. The difference was that we were

all expected to participate in all sporting activities,

without any exceptions.

“In 1973, after I had played for the junior soccer

team for a year, I was promoted to the senior team. I

had earned my space in the senior team and was

excited. I blended with the team, easily, as two of my

club mates, Steve Mofokeng and Wanda Kgobe, were

also at the school. With Patson Band as goalkeeper and

a team of highly-skilled players, the Naledi High

School’s squad dominated the school league.

37


The Black 11, as we became known, later, won a

championship to be curtain raisers for the League Cup

Final between Orlando Pirates and Amazulu Stars.

This was a huge milestone that put us on the pinnacle

of the South African soccer fraternity. The Schools

League was divided into four areas: North, East, South

and West. In 1973, the area champions competed for

the finals; and it was Naledi High School against Morris

Isaacson High School, and we won the game. Morris

Isaacson could not handle the situation of being

second best, and this had then resulted into a riot.

Soon after the curtain raisers match for the League

Cup final, we were selected to be part of a development

programme. The school that were represented in the

development programme were Naledi High School,

Orlando High School, Orlando North High School,

Orlando West High School, Diepkloof Secondary

School and Dr Vilakazi High School in Zola, Soweto.

The selection was made from all the schools but,

because of the saturation of talent at Naledi High

School, five of Sir Stanley Matthews Boys, including

the captain of the team, were from Naledi High. The

players who were selected from Naledi High School

were Gilbert Moiloa (who was also the select

team’s captain), Owen Parkies, Joel Masoeu, Oriel

Mathobela and myself.

“Being selected by Sir Stan Matthews came with a

huge sacrifice for me, as I was now playing professional

soccer; first for Moroka Swallows’ Babes, and later

joining Moroka Swallows Big XV.

38


The financial impact was that I could no longer

assist my aunt with my schooling. The sacrifice was

worth it though. I had the opportunity to be trained by

one of the two masters of the game in the world, Sir

Stanley Matthews. There was also another opportunity,

to travel overseas and meet another world master of

the game, the great Pele, in Brazil.

“The trip to Brazil was a historic one, because the

odds were against us. Due to Apartheid, the South

African Football Association was banned from

international soccer. Nevertheless, history was made

when one of my soccer mates Oriel Mathobela, got to

touch the historic Soccer World Cup trophy that Brazil

had won three times, then, and was theirs to keep, for

life. Bearing in mind, that to the Brazilians, the cup is a

well-guarded treasure of a football-loving nation.

Unbeknown to Oriel, then, the same tournament

would come to South Africa thirty-seven years later. Sir

Stanley Matthews, the English wizard of dribble, was

subsequently banned from coaching black players by

the United Nations Anti-Apartheid Committee.

“In a newspaper article, Jack Blades wrote and said:

‘The boys of Sir Stan took to Brazil (and) they did something

seemingly impossible. They went to Brazil at a time when South

Africa was suspended from international football, and played two

mini-internationals. They trained with World Cup stars and

they even laid hands on the (Soccer) World Cup (trophy). They

were Sir Stan’s men, a team of schoolboys from Soweto.’

39


“Being involved in all the faculties of sports (, arts

and culture) helped me to be a well-rounded human

being. One was expected to participate in music,

athletics and other extra mural activities. With no idling

time in my hands, I had to succeed in whatever I was

doing. Fitness and stamina are critical in soccer and this

had required me to be diligent and disciplined in my

training. The family values that were instilled in me by

my aunt, who raised me, set me up for a successful

soccer career, and for this, I am grateful!”

40


The Role Of Politics

“The “Wild West” – as our area was known, then – was

politically dry. My mandate was to “warm up” the students,

politically, convert them from the Students Christian Movement

(SCM) to the South African Students Movement (SASM) and

establish new cells.” – David Kutumela, a former Naledi

High School student.

D

avid Kutumela is a former Naledi High School

student who played an ambassadorial role

between the schools and political

organisations, refocusing the direction of the different

movements. Together with Tseke Morathi and Ndibi

Motapanyane, they conspired in the escape of Enos

Ngutshane on 8 June 1976, using the well-known

“Popo Molefe Gate” for his escape. Molefe is also a

member of the Naledi High School Alumni, who were

serving in the June 16 and Solomon Mahlangu

Foundations.

41


Kutumela is one of the former students that I had

met during the centenary celebration at Naledi Hall.

On that day, we met in Pretoria at a coffee shop that

served traditional South African breakfast that had

included boerewors, my favourite tomato and onion

gravy and homemade bread.

For the purpose of the interview, Kutumela was

already there – waiting – when I arrived, and – as a

result – no time was wasted.

The Multiparty Approach

“As a member of the National Youth Organisation,

NAYO, under the leadership of Zweli Sizani, I was

deployed to Naledi High School to establish a cell that

was to form a base for the West Rand. Naledi High

School, as fellow Naledi High School alumni, Enos

Ngutshane used to fondly refer to his alma mater, was

‘The Great School on the Golden West.’ The

deployment happened at a time when the then

headmaster, Mr Molope, had been seconded to the

school. With the solid relationship, I had already

established with Mr Molope at Morris Isaacson High

School, both as a teacher and a neighbour in Mofolo

Township, the task was easy to execute. Molope and

Mr Mathabathe, besides being school principals, had a

good understanding of the politics of the day; and this

had created a strategic environment for the political

organisations to coexist.

Reverend Raboroko, in his designated chapter in

this book, explains how the Christian movement had

42


worked side-by-side, with the different organisations.

Regarding how these political structures had coexisted

and worked cohesively towards the common goal of

removing the Apartheid government from power,

there were three levels of infiltration and of politicising

the masses, via the workers – Black People’s

Convention, BPC, tertiary institutions – South

African Students Organisation, SASO and the

high school students – South African Students

Movement, SASM.

“The Black People’s Convention was led by

Kenny Rachidi. Its purpose was to promote the Black

Consciousness Movement philosophy among the

workers. With the idea that – as African people – we

had the power within us to change the adverse

circumstances that the Apartheid system was

subjecting us to. The South African Students

Organisation was led by Aubrey Mokoape. Although

the South African Students Organization was a student

body, was also a political organisation that had plugged

the gap that had been left by the banning of the African

National Congress and Pan Africanist Congress, PAC.

Their mandate went beyond politics, and included

literacy, health, skills development and gardening

projects. They were a resourceful force to be reckoned

with, as they did not leave their communities behind.

Most of them taught at high schools during the

holidays, or whenever the ‘System’ had banished them

from the universities.

43


“The South African Students Movement was

under the leadership of Billy Masala,

Ndibe Motapanyane and Zweli Sizani. The

movement was formed to unite students across the

country, to address their grievances with the Bantu

Education system, one of these being Afrikaans as a

medium of instruction. It is the protest action against

the Bantu Education system that led to the June 1976

Students’ Uprising. After the Sharpeville Massacre and

the banning of the ANC and PAC in 1960, the

Apartheid government had thought that they had

everything under their control; until the 16 th of June

1976. Since then, there has been a series of political

struggles that led to the end of Apartheid in 1990, and

ultimately, to the first Democratic Elections in 1994.

This was a multiparty approach which had been based

on the common enemy principle. Upon being

recruited, the members had to undergo training, in the

form of workshops. Individuals who excelled in

specific areas, led the workshops. Roller Masinga was

an expert on missions and setting up cells, the basics

on ammunition theory and the practical handling of

ammunition. Aubrey Mokoape’s focus area was pain

tolerance: ‘If you can endure the first pain, you will survive the

rest that is to follow,’ Mokoape used to say, although he

had added that this would not make the pain any better.

Philosophy Diversity

“The process of raising political awareness was

straightforward and swift because of the role that the

media had played then.

44


We were taught different philosophies, including

socialism, communism, Marxism and Liberation

Theology. We were able to understand the aims and

methods of each of these philosophies, its shortfalls

and how these could be used for us to attain and

benefit our freedom. We were able to learn that Free

Enterprise tended to put wealth and power in the

hands of people who owned and controlled their own

means of production; but that Democracy, on the other

hand, could create a balance by putting in place the

systems and mechanisms that protected the workers.

“Lest we forget the humiliation of 1886; let us recall

that the African mine workers – during the discovery

of diamonds and gold in Kimberley and Witwatersrand

– were regarded as only being there to help the white

man to dig his gold. And that the Africans were

contracted for a period of time, to be used as cheap

labour, and they were then later sent back home, back

to poverty and dismantled family structures. The

economy of our country is driven by workers, hence

the importance of workers to be united and formalised.

Unless we have workers, there can be no finished

products, therefore no profits. Through our labour, we

have the power to change our circumstances. This

power should be used with discernment, diligence and

regard to discern and recognise the sacredness and

value in the work that we do; be it working as a shop

assistant, washing the dishes in a restaurant or cleaning

the toilets, and so on. How one carries out their task

will distinguish them from another person doing the

same job.

45


To be diligent in the service that we would be

providing would be driving the economy of our

country, however menial these tasks may be.

“The first democratically elected president of our

country Dr Nelson Mandela epitomised diligence in

everything he did; be it starting a vegetable garden

whilst in jail, or polishing his own shoes as a president

before a meeting. That is what we need to consider

when we think of the fruits of our labour as part of the

bigger picture of the economy of our country. To

regard our labour as being a part of the bigger picture

is not necessarily a means to earn a salary. But we

needed to be able to recognise how power can easily

lead to corruption, greed and dictatorship. So that,

after attaining freedom, we do not find ourselves

reverting to the ways of our former oppressors. This

must be recognised as something that is inherent in all

of us. We will, then, not speak of corruption as

something outside of ourselves, so that we are able to

get rid of it, individually and collectively as families,

businesses, institutions, organisations and custodians

of our democracy.

“The Black Consciousness Movement was pivotal

at this stage, as the Apartheid apparatus was teaching

us that we are an inferior race. In contrast, the Black

Consciousness Movement brought to light the beauty

of being African and the pride that comes along with

it. The aim was to eradicate the self-hatred that came

with skin bleaching and unnatural hair; the disregard of

our African names; and frowning upon our indigenous

languages and food, including our traditional South

46


African national outfits. Things that we take for

granted today, are things that had to be fought for back

then, and of those things were fought for at great cost,

I might add.

“Liberation Theology used to point us back to the

stories in the Bible, including the stories of freedom

from oppression and how God had dealt with the issue

of land. Training was intense and vigorous, often

requiring endurance. Those who were in leadership

had deserved to be in those positions, and had come

to earn their positions through integrity and

commitment. Leadership was one area that was

outstanding about Naledi High School. There are a few

individuals who stood out from the rest, namely

Sibongile Mkhabela, Enos Ngutshane and Popo

Molefe.

“Mkhabela was the first and only woman to be

welcomed officially by my commander. The same as a

lioness, and with strong convictions, she was always at

the forefront. I remember her words of commitment

to those who were going into exile, when she had said:

“Go, I will remain and keep the home fires burning.”

True to her words, she got involved in many different

campaigns; fighting the white ideology, fearlessly.

Molefe, on the other hand, was the epitome of

discipline, a well-groomed elegant dresser and head

boy.

“Ngutshane was a wise and subtle individual who

was wired for military intelligence. Unless he trusted

you, you would never get to know him.

47


Fundraising was one of his strengths, which used

to be greatly appreciated by the newly-formed SASM

branch.

“Different methods of disseminating messages

were employed. The petrol bomb message is the one

that I remember clearly. In October 1975, a pamphlet

in the form of a ‘cartoon’ started circulating (pamphlets

were a common means of communication). Struggling

to interpret the cartoon, I sought the help of a fellow

student who was known as Zweli. After scrutinising

the cartoon for a while, we discovered that it was an

artistic interpretation on how to make a petrol bomb.

With this information in our hands, we needed a

strategy to circulate this information widely. From a

post office in Jeppe Street, Johannesburg, we bought a

box of envelopes and stamps. Through the ‘Yellow

Pages’ telephone numbers directory, we mailed the

cartoon to every African family in the directory. We

later found out that a lot of artistic people had managed

to decode the cartoon message easily. By June 16,

almost everyone knew how to make a petrol bomb.

There was no formal instruction. People had to figure

it out, themselves.

“On a monthly basis, various guest speakers were

invited to address the students. Every now and then,

the guest speakers had included government

representatives who had viewed this as an opportunity

to promote their propaganda and misinformation to

mislead the students. They had not been aware,

though, that – on the other hand – for the principal, it

was an opportunity to reverse the psychology of

48


Apartheid. Students like Popo Molefe asked

challenging questions that the likes of Piet Koornhof,

who were usually unable to answer.

These were open discussions, with no limits or

boundaries. When he was asking the questions, the

principal had to address the students without

addressing them by their names, cautious not to

disclose the identities of the students. “Yes! You

there!” was common practice to address any raised

hand.

“The day of 8 June 1976 was a turning point in the

history of the liberation struggle. It had motivated a

series of meetings which had subsequently led to a

declaration – without being aware – to the situation of

the day, further politicising the students. Students like

Popo Molefe and Sibongile Mkhabela increasingly

became fearlessly outspoken. This buzz was further

enhanced by the fact that Naledi High School was the

only school with a solid political structure. After a

lengthy breakfast that had overlapped into lunchtime,

Kutumela had concluded by saying: ‘The struggle of

the 1976 generation was a political one. The current

generation, however, faces a different kind of struggle;

that of drug addiction. My prayer is for them to realise

that they have the power within themselves to change

the direction of their lives, including the economy of

the country.’’

49


The Role

Of Christianity

“We must find a way as a community of educators to be able to

work together without feeling threatened by each other. This is

the strength that made us win the war against apartheid: The

ability to assimilate each other’s effort for a common course

*Raboroko Sr.

T

he preparations for the 50 th Anniversary

Celebrations are well under way. Following the

deliberations of one of the committee

meetings, I am introduced to Reverend PN Raboroko

Sr. He is the resident counsellor and life coach and a

veteran of the socio-political struggle. He promises to

get back to me to see as to when we can set up an

interview. He only comes to the school two times a

week. When he finally grants me an audience I am

thankful.

50


The Christian Youth Clubs

“I became the pastor of the Naledi International

Assemblies of God, IAG in Soweto in 1970. I was a

young Minister who was looking to bring some change

to a dwindling Parish. I soon discovered that there was

a gap in the afterschool youth activities in the local

community of Naledi. Due to my involvement in the

schools’ ministry at the time – in 1973 – I established

a Christian Youth Club. I housed the club in the Naledi

International Assemblies of God, IAG Church.

“The Christian Youth Club was a breath of fresh

air, and a gentle reminder that the founders of our

liberation movement were in fact Christians. God’s

message of justice was already permeating the youth of

the day. The group I could access with ease were the

Student Christian Movement (SCM) members. They

had enquiring minds that were seeking more than what

the Bantu Education system was forcing down their

throats. The church’s Teen Outreach Programme filled

this void and, soon, the International Assemblies of

God premises in Naledi became a second home for

these students.

“I am a second-generation Minister who was raised

by a father who, himself, was a Minister; which has

made it easy for me to relate to the young minds. These

young people’s spirits were never easily dampened.

Their role – collectively or individually – was very

demanding, challenging and risky, to say the least.

Sadly, we had casualties too; the fallen heroes, who

gallantly fought for the emancipation of the oppressed

African masses. I remember, among others, Abie

Rapoo and Esso Mokgethi.

51


Of-course some of them later left the country to

become better-prepared to wage the Struggle against

Apartheid from outside. They went into various

camps, as they fled from the country; Popo Maja, Chief

Twala, Enos Ngutshane, Guga Hadebe, Ezy Gxuluwe,

Vusi Kunene and many others. And there are those

who remained and intensified the struggle; the likes of

Khehla Mthembu, Ntshabelo Pooe, Pule Pule, Muzi

Nkwanyane, Popo Molefe, Reverend Frank Chikane,

Philip Dungulu and Sibongile Mkhabela.

Liberation Theology

“As the political tension had intensified, it made my

life with the church difficult. Those who had aligned

themselves with questioning Apartheid – both black

and white people – were marginalised and persecuted

by the church. Reverend Chikane is one such example.

He was detained because he was helping the families

of detainees. In detention, the police torture was

supervised by a deacon from his own church. He also,

thankfully, survived chemical poisoning.

“Due to the animosity and unwelcoming spirit of

most of the African Ministers within the IAG church,

Teen Outreach events were banished. So were the

Teen Outreach youth camps within the IAG. Still, my

commitment was with helping the students’ struggle.

By this time, my father who, as I had mentioned earlier,

was a Minister himself in the 1960’s, had already

introduced me to Liberation Theology.

“The advent of Liberation Theology was the main

message of the day in the nineteen seventies, and had

helped to bring a groundbreaking perspective of God

in the church – a church that was divided. As the South

52


African Council of Churches, SACC was praying for

the dismantling of Apartheid, the Apartheid-founded

churches – on the other hand – were praying against

the liberation movements, calling them communists.

The illustration of Liberation Theology came from the

greatest story in the Bible, from Exodus: (Relating to a

time and place) when God had raised a leader – Moses

– to deliver the children of Israel from oppression,

from the Egyptians. This was a foreign teaching to us

in South Africa, where Christianity was causing so

much suffering, through Apartheid.

“And this brought to light a new and different

perspective of God: A God of justice, a God that hates

poverty and suffering; and a God that was going to

liberate us from the humiliation of Apartheid. We were

forced to reach out and find this God. The students,

themselves, were earnestly following the sermons and

teachings. They forced us to look deeper into our faith

and into who God truly is? God had always loved the

world, including Africa. From ancient times, Africa and

Africans have always been part of God’s story. Egypt

is mentioned a hundred times, and Ethiopia is cited

forty times in the Bible. It is also important to

understand that the Bible does not depict Africans and

Africa as an oppressed, poverty-stricken nation.

“Let me mention a few of the stories in the bible

that point to this fact. The story of Noah, in Genesis,

is a story of how the people were scattered over the

earth through Noah’s three sons. One of Noah’s sons,

Ham, the middle one, came to settle in Egypt. The

country, Mizraim, was later called Aegyptus, Egypt, by

the Greeks, as they were the first Europeans to come

to Africa. The other ancient name of Egypt is Kemet,

53


which means Blackman’s Land. Also, the Bible

describes the children of Ham – in true African form

– as great warriors and hunters. It also describes Noah

as a descendant of the ‘Son of the Soil’. As has already

been mentioned, the country was named after Mizraim,

one of Ham’s sons. It is, therefore, the descendants of

Ham, through the family line of Mizraim, who

established Egypt. However, the curse of Ham by his

father, Noah, has been interpreted in racial terms, not

for the discipline that his father had imposed on him.

“This is how the Apartheid church had justified the

racial divide and white supremacy in the Apartheid era.

This was based on the assumption that the black race

was created by the curse in Genesis 9:24-27, forcing us

to think of ourselves as a cursed nation, doomed to

failure. The descendants of Ham settled on the western

side of the great Nile River, which is the longest river

in the world, which stretches over 6 679 km, north east

of Africa, providing irrigation to, not only Egypt, but

Sudan and small areas in Ethiopia and Uganda. God

did not only give us one of the longest rivers in the

world, but also one of the biggest continent, as well.

Egypt was a place of abundance during the times of

drought. It became a place of safety for the two iconic

babies in the Bible, Moses and Jesus. It was a place of

wealth, as can be seen by the gifts that the Queen of

Sheba from Ethiopia had brought to King Solomon.

King Solomon, because of this relationship with (the)

Queen of Sheba, used the good quality wood from

Egypt to build the Temple. It is his Ethiopian father

in-law who groomed Moses to be the historic leader

that he turned out to be. Simon, who came to Jesus’s

assistance in carrying the cross to Calvary, was from

54


Cyrene in Libya. The Prophet who wrote the Book of

Zephania was an African from Ethiopia. The Eunuch

with whom Phillip had shared the Word of God in

Acts 8:26-28 was an Ethiopian who had come to

Jerusalem to worship God. All of these different events

took place in the 15 th Century, long before (the)

Missionaries came to Africa.

“As a result of this misrepresentation of

Christianity, many African people were disinherited of

their means of living: the land. The land issue is a

subject we cannot shy away from, and we must be

comfortable to talk about it. Land must be seen for

what it is among Africans: a source of food and shelter

and the basis of wealth for future generations.

Teen Outreach Program

“In 1973, I founded the Teen Outreach Christian

Club. The organisation celebrated its 30 th anniversary

in 2003, and it was at that event that I was presented

with the Honorary Life President award. We had Teen-

Outreach members who were the students who were

in the forefront of the June 1976 student upheavals:

The likes of Sibongile Mkhabela (née Mthembu), Guga

Radebe, David Kutumela, Khehla Mthembu,

Mzwakhe Mbuli, Popo Molefe, Pule Pule, Ntsabelo

Poo, Vusi Kunene, Reverend Chikane and his wife,

Kagiso Chikane (née Bogopane), Tebogo

Mngomezulu, Ephy Mafatshe and Chief Twala, to

name but a few.

“I wish I had enough space to make mention of all

the students who were part of the Teen Outreach

programme, especially at the height of the 1976

disturbances.

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Some of the above-mentioned individuals were

members of the banned Soweto Student

Representative Council (SSRC), and were amongst the

Soweto 11 Trial accused, who were charged under the

Terrorism Act. As more political organisations were

banned, the role of Christian Youth Clubs became vital

in taking the Struggle forward, and their faith was

tested. Many of the youths who left the country had

showcased their leadership skills that they had acquired

at Teen Outreach in exile - I am told.

“The Teen Outreach programme was both a

spiritual and political home for everyone, inclusively.

The different political persuasions did not divide us. If

one came for the first time to our meetings, one would

not pick up the difference in political affiliations. The

heartfelt singing of the National Anthem, Nkosi Sikelela

I ’Afrika, in its original form, centered our minds to the

issue at hand, not only in the region, but as a continent.

We sang the song as a hymn with one stanza, as it was

originally composed and intended by the composer,

Enoch Sontonga, in 1897 – as a lamentation that is

meant to bring Africa together, to cry out to God in

one, unified voice, For God to save us, as we suffer

through the trials and tribulations that are brought

unto human beings by fellow human beings. Our

politics jelled into our love for one another, as

Africans.

Nkosi sikelel' iAfrika

Maluphakanyisw' uphondo lwayo,

Yizwa imithandazo yethu,

Nkosi sikelela, thina lusapho lwayo.

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“The Teen Outreach Christian Club programme

produced prominent men and women in various

disciplines, including the business fraternal, leaders in

the political arena, local and prominent church leaders,

medical doctors, nursing professionals, technicians,

educators, engineers and (personalities in) the law

fraternity.

“In my retirement, I have come full circle with the

Struggle, as I volunteer my time, counselling the

students and creating a support system for the teachers

at Naledi High School. Often, the teachers play a role

beyond that of being just a teacher; parenting the

students, as well. We must find a way, as a community

of educators, to be able to work together, without

feeling threatened by each other. This is the strength

that made us win the war against Apartheid: the ability

to assimilate each other’s efforts, for a common course,

without feeling threatened by each other.”

As the children drop by, during their tea break, I ask

Reverend Raboroko, “From your consultation with

our children what is the paramount thing that they

yearn for?”

With some seeking to greet him, while others

wanted to confirm their appointments, and a few

others wished to see if he was available for counselling,

Reverend Raboroko answered: “Uppermost on the list

is compassion, whenever they go through tough times;

then follows parental love and presence. Our children

need us more than any other thing. Material things fill

a temporary void, and are a pacifying solution. Most of

all, our children want us to be real and honest with

them.

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Some of the difficulties that the children go through

at home play out in their lives in the classroom. It

requires us, as parents, to show up.

“Which brings me to the subject of parenting, a

subject I understand well as a father of five children.

Parenting is daunting and we try to do the best we can,

raising our children. Sometimes, we get it right. During

other times, we fail, dismally. Often, we bail out and

become passengers in their lives, and watch as the

storm takes us where it wills. As parents, we can help

our children by praying for them. Prayer is the easiest,

yet the most challenging act of faith. It is challenging

because praying in a way that impacts our children,

requires us to be vulnerable and for us to reflect on

ourselves. As we reflect, sometimes we may see

ourselves in their struggles. In order for God to make

it right for our children. We have to allow God to make

us right, and not be ashamed of the mistakes we may

have made in the past. Few parents are willing to go

through this process. Yet this is exactly what is needed

to release our children from suffering, and to have our

prayers answered.

“Through our flaws and deficiencies, our children’s

lives can be refined and sharpened. If you need your

child to be diligent and hardworking, reflect within

yourself and see where this comes from. If your child

is rebellious and does not want to take instructions

from the teachers, reflect again. And if he is constantly

lying and playing truant, reflect once more. God will

uproot the problem from the source. But, first, you

must be willing to walk this road of repentance as a

parent – the narrow road, so to speak. Prayer is a

simple act of faith that does not require much, except

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your time, in the privacy of your own home, with just

you and the unseen God, in quietness. This also

requires for you not to be personal or offended by your

children’s teething troubles and technical hitches of

their lives. When we do so – being offended – we allow

self-importance and pride to get in the way of God

assisting them.

“Even though our children live in a democratic

society, with advanced technology and easy access to

information, these come with new challenges. Their

struggle is, therefore, different from ours. And we need

to pray for them, accordingly, and to teach them how

to pray for themselves.

“As with the work that I am currently doing at

Naledi High School, at the Teen Outreach Club I

became more than just a spiritual mentor. I was also

concerned with their protection and safety against the

brutality of the police. As it became apparent on the 8 th

of June when Enos Ngutshane, the then president of

Teen-Outreach in 1976, wrote a letter protesting

against the imposition of Afrikaans as a medium of

instruction, to the then Minister of Bantu Education,

MC Botha, the objection was not against Afrikaans as

a language, but about the use of Afrikaans as a means

of instruction. The Apartheid Government had

responded by going to his school, Naledi High with the

police’s Special Branch, and raiding the school as if

hunting for a criminal, which Ngutshane wasn’t, and

even disregarding the fact that this was a place of

learning. This was just eight days before the historic

student protest march of June 16, 1976. The special

branch mission was to arrest Enos Ngutshane, as has

been referenced in the letter he had written.

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While they were in the school principal’s office, this

had come to the attention of the student body.

Knowing how cruel the South African Police were,

they hastily smuggled Ngutshane out of the school

yard. They then confronted the Special Branch officers

head-on. The Special Branch members were

subsequently held hostage in the principal’s office.

Their car, a VW Beetle, was turned upside down and

set on fire. This had accelerated the students’ plan that

was already brewing, the organising of the June 16,

1976 protest march as we know it today. Thankfully,

Ngutshane survived and is active in the re-building of

the Heritage structures of the school, as part of the

nine Heritage Schools in Soweto.”

The following were Reverend Raboroko’s

concluding words: “As I bow out, my desire is to have

somebody that I can mentor and to whom I can hand

over the baton; someone who will be able to relate to

the students in a way that will support the teachers and

students; for them to be able to concentrate on the

issue at hand: teaching and learning.” The walls and

cupboard doors in Reverend Raboroko’s office are

adorned with a lot of handwritten messages from

students, all of them attesting to what he has been

referring to in terms of what the children are yearning

for: For their parents to be parents, and not their

friends (they already have friends). They are also

yearning for structure at home (children thrive on

order, which requires discipline). There is also a

programme hanging on the wall, covering a variety of

topics, neatly packaged and ready to be distributed to

the students. In the words of Archbishop Desmond

Tutu: “To assist them to become what they have in them to be!”

60


61


5

Student Leadership

Academic Excellence

“We were a group of four well motivated boys driven by poverty

to fight their way to life: Dr. Solly Motshwane, Sidwell Bason,

the late Dr. Faith Modise Matlaopane and myself.” – Former

Naledi High School learner Reverend Frank Chikane.

I

t is a sunny Saturday morning at the Apostolic

Faith Mission in Naledi, Soweto. My

appointment is only due in thirty-five minutes,

so I have ample time on my hands. The beautiful

garden has a wide spread of trees and shrubs, making

it easy to find a good sobering shade beneath which to

calm my nerves. The place is buzzing with activity, and

the scent of the freshly-cut lawn is floating in the air.

The women are sprucing up the church in preparation

for Sunday service the next day. A group of people are

congregating for what is seemingly a briefing session.

The phrase, “War on Poverty” is emblazoned on their

62


jackets, which tells me that they are volunteers who are

working on a poverty-alleviation programme.

I make a note of this to enquire further in my

interview with Reverend Chikane. I am also astounded

by the level of cleanliness of the church as a whole.

Even the ablution facilities are immaculate, which

instantly elevates the level of esteem I have for this

establishment. The interview takes an unusual turn

when Reverend Chikane assumes control with two

pointed questions: “Two questions for you, Eunice.

First, I want to know a little bit more about you.

Secondly, why did the organising committee give you

this task?”

Taken aback, I freeze momentarily, hoping for the

questions to go away. Throughout my interviews for

this book, none of the former students and teachers

had taken any interest in my personal background. This

is a first. So, I struggle to answer Reverend Chikane’s

questions. I had known that this was going to be a

tough one. I had then resorted to a quick internal

discussion with myself, and reflected on my mother’s

prayer in the morning, in which she had wished me well

for my meeting with Reverend Chikane. As a rule, we

always had a daily Bible study session at home with my

late mother. As part of her prayer for me that morning,

her request to the Almighty for my sake was a little bit

strange. It was for Reverend Chikane to get to know

about me and my work (As opposed to me knowing

about him, as was the case for the interviews for this

book). Initially, my mother’s prayer had not made any

sense, but I had confidence in my mother and had

decided not to make much of it.

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As soon as I had gathered my thoughts, I responded

to the questions, and also explained how I got to be

commissioned.

From a personal perspective, my interest and

concern for the June 16 th Heritage and Legacy Project

came about as a result of seeing how insignificant this

day had become to most South Africans, particularly

after the poorly-regarded event which had marked the

same significant day at our restaurant in Fourways, a

venue which – as an African cuisine restaurant – was

meant to celebrate all things African. As compared to

other national holidays, June 16 was no longer being

given the recognition it deserved. I was then inspired

to start making noise about the day and, especially

relating to our local hospitality calendar.

The campaign to hype up the significance of the

June 16 commemorative events had started off in 2010

with the dinner conversations at my African Cuisine

restaurant in Fourways. These dialogues had then

slowly become a popular annual event. The young

patrons used to be fascinated and had always

thoroughly enjoyed the chats (coupled with the food

and the good flow of wine, of course). At the height of

these discussions, my niece always had always claimed

it was my delicious oxtail and dumpling that was

making her intellectual juices to flow. Subsequent to

these annual dialogues – which had started off

somewhat lazily – the idea of writing a book had

followed, and happened most naturally.

From a publishing perspective, and as the owner of

an independent publishing house, I had already made

great strides.

64


With twenty-two published titles by fourteen

independent authors, one of whom has won the

PanSALB Award in the category of indigenous

languages; and ten out of the twenty-two published

titles having been listed in the Gauteng Department of

Education and Training Learner Teacher Study

Material, LTSM catalogue as library resources. Another

title, by Fhatuwani Trevor Mulaudzi, a lecturer at the

University of Limpopo, is being used as a text book for

the water and sanitation faculty at the university.

In 2012 January, a proposal was made to the Naledi

High school principal, the school’s governing body, the

learner representative council and alumni to write a

Heritage Book. Coincidently, by then I had already

made the same proposal to the other nine Soweto

Heritage Schools. This had turned out to be a good

idea for Naledi High School, as the school would be

celebrating its 50th anniversary in 2013.

I stopped myself from getting carried away as the

secretary brought us tea with freshly baked scones.

Satisfied with my answer, Reverend Chikane starts off

the interview with a subject that relates to the academic

history of Naledi High School, which turned out to be

a subject that has been very close to his heart.

Reverend starts on a nostalgic note: “We were a

group of four well-motivated boys – driven by poverty

to fight their way through life – namely Dr Solly

Motshwane, Sidwell Bason, the late Dr Faith Modise

Matlaopane and myself. There was actually six of us,

but only the four of us would get distinctions. Also, not

all of us were politically-inclined, but we all went on to

excel in our different, individual areas of expertise.

65


Our particular classroom, Room 1, was next to the

principal’s office, Mr Rudolph Mtimkulu.

“What lay behind our success was a combination of

several factors; disciplined headmasters, committed

leaders, who were fighting their own war against the

education system of Apartheid; the MK’s of the

education system, as it were. As well as the fighting

spirit of the students, who were burdened with

poverty; the parents, who – even though they were

uneducated – were conscious of the impact of their

own lives on their children’s lives; and, finally, the

teachers, who always went beyond the call of duty –

thus creating a sense of collective leadership.

“The educators’ struggle had its own nature, too.

Some of them went on exile (especially in 1954) in

defiance of the Bantu Education system. The downside

of this was that the system had continued to operate

while they were in exile, and did not collapse, forcing

some of them to come back and fight the system from

within. Mr Thamsanqa Khambule was one such leader

who had returned from Malawi. Their mission was

plain and simple: to educate the African child beyond

what Bantu Education was teaching – producing

students that could compete in the international arena.

And they achieved this!

“In addition to revolutionary school principals, we

had committed subject teachers. Our biology teacher is

a good example. We also had several teachers, who on

the other hand were regarded as redundant, and we

took it upon ourselves to study and pass, driven by a

personal agenda. We studied chemistry according to

what the text book had dictated and had to stretch our

66


imagination to make sense of the related theories. One

of the auxiliary systems that were put in place by the

then education activists was the Winter School

Programme. A volunteering teacher from Sacred Heart

College was quick to identify the gifted science and

chemistry students.

Arrangements were evidently made for us to be

further mentored at their premises. Arriving at Sacred

Heart College, we were left in awe of their facilities,

including three well-equipped laboratories in one

school, one for the General Science students, and the

other for those who were taking Physics, and another

for the Chemistry students. For the first time, we got

to see an electrical plug and were able to do proper

experiments. Soweto, then, was not electricallypowered.”

Reverend Chikane grew up in Tladi Soweto, where

he was raised by a diligent father who was a carpenter

by trade. The family was well-known for their exclusive

trade of installing wooden floor tiling. The floors in my

own home in Moletsane was floored by the late Ntate

Chikane.

Reflecting remorsefully, he says: “For a long time,

this had put us in a favorable financial position until

my father got sick from the side effects of this trade.

Sadly, it is these side effects that finally took his life.”

Like many other ex-Naledi High School students,

Reverend Chikane is also aggrieved by the poor matric

results. We speak at length about this subject. There is

no excuse for our schools to underperform, he says.

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Like Reverend Raboroko, he too, believes that “We

must find a way as a community of educators to be able

to work together without feeling threatened by each

other.” He then explains further: “We must look at the

provinces that are doing well and learn from them.

Resources are available and plenty. This, in the form of

educational trusts and organisations that offer

education departments and schools sustainable

development programme models.

These programmes are well-structured and have

been tried and tested, over the years. It is up to us to

use to them and not stand in the way of helping our

children to fight their way out of poverty.”

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Political Consciousness

“My political consciousness and sense of justice came from being

an active member of my church. Being involved in Christian youth

movements and organizations.” – Former Naledi High

School student Sibongile Mkhabela.

“O

h my! I cannot believe that you people

are still talking about 1976. I am tired of

being asked the same questions!”

exclaims the charming Mrs Mkhabela in

jest as she tries to walk out of the office lounge, while

I was just wrapping up my interview with her colleague

and fellow ex-Naledi High School student, Oupa

Ngwenya, at their offices at the Mandela Children’s

Fund in Houghton, Johannesburg. Picking up on our

last discussion point with Ngwenya has somehow put

Mrs Mkhabela in a state, although she is not miffed.

Quickly, my dramatic nature comes out as I hold her

hand and ask her to “pleeeeease… sit down…” After

a good laugh, I explain the angle of our conversation.

Before we get to the business of children and

families – which is Mrs Mkhabela’s forte as the Nelson

Mandela Children’s Fund CEO and a trustee of the

Nelson Mandela Children’s Hospital – we decide to

attend an urgent business at hand: her association with

Naledi High Heritage School and the shared concern –

together with headmaster Mr Mavatulana – regarding

the poor matric results, and – this – with the aim of

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seeking to motivate the learners through the lives of

those who came before them. Mrs Mkhabela begins by

taking us back to her childhood: “I grew up in Zola

township; one of the poorest and most violent areas in

Soweto, which is also referred to as the ‘Wild West’.

Thanks to my high school principal, who had changed

that to the ‘Jewel of the West’, this made me feel like I

grew up as one who was not from a violent area and

poor community, but that I am worthy – and that I am

worth something.” I then asked her: “So where does

the consciousness come from?”

Then she answered: “You know, so often I have to

answer this question and, over time, I had to reflect on

it, and my view is that one is a product of one’s

circumstances, and that this is formed by one’s life

experiences. I was, therefore, greatly influenced by my

Christian faith. My political consciousness and sense of

justice came from being an active member in my

church. The church had a deep understanding of the

social lives of the people and wanted to have a lasting

impact by changing the status quo in South Africa. And

that is what attracted me to the church. As God’s

people, we hold the key to releasing the power of God

on earth. This can only be achieved by taking our

mandate seriously. The Christian mandate is to speak

up for the people who have no voice, for the rights of

all the down and out, and for justice. To stand up for

the poor and destitute. Alas, the church has become

more of an entertainment and feel-good movement,

though. As a result, our people continue to suffer the

financial and social injustices, even though we are free.

The South African Christian Directory has 402

churches in its registry, many of which have women’s

70


groups. “The Christian Women’s fellowship group is a

powerful force that can change the current social,

educational, health and financial situation in our

country. Women should not be distracted by religious

performances and church uniforms. They must be

convinced to understand their communities’ needs.

Many of the leaders of the August 1956 March were

ordinary women; nurses, factory workers and members

of women’s fellowship groups, with uniforms. They

lived out their faith and challenged the social injustices

of their time. The mandate is still the same for us,

today, as Christian women, to bring economic

freedom, and to address the land issue.

When Mrs Mkhabela had raised this issue of land, it

had caused me to reflect and be reminded that these

religious performances were not something new, as we

have seen these throughout history, as has been

illustrated in Matthew 23:5-7, relating to an instance

during which Jesus had warned his disciples and the

masses of the motives and driving force of the

Pharisees and other religious leaders of the time and

said: “They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their

garments long; they love the place of honor at banquets and the

most seats at the synagogues; they love to be greeted in the market

places; and to have men call them ‘Rabbi’ [Religious titles].”

It was a valid tradition to wear the priestly

garments, then. The phylacteries were little leather

boxes which were strapped to one’s wrist and on the

forehead. Each contained a parchment roll with four

passage Scriptures, notably: Exodus 13:1-10; 13:11-16;

Deuteronomy 6:4-9; 11:13-21. However, the Pharisees

71


and rabbis wore these in extra-large form, and had thus

implied that the larger the box, the greater was one’s

love of the Scriptures. Tassels were worn on the four

corners of the outer garment to remind the Jews of

God’s law and their privileged relationship to his

Word. Then, again, the Pharisees had enlarged their

tassels to make a show of piety. It is still the same

today. The Bible speaks of such leaders as those who

speak a good line, but they do not live it. They do not

take their faith into their hearts and live it out in their

behaviour. It is an all spit and polish surface. And,

soon, our hearts are hardened to pain and suffering. To

outsiders, we look like we derive pleasure from seeing

others suffering as we bask in the radiance of publiclyexpressed

religious fervor and flattery. To them, our

faith is nothing more than just a religious performance.

“My people are destroyed by lack of knowledge [because of

ignorance],” Mrs Mkhabela makes reference to Hosea

4:6, as she moves to yet another passion, reading.

“My consciousness was also enhanced by reading,

to be aware of what was going on beyond the borders

of Apartheid South Africa,” she says. “Furthermore, I

am a person who believes in institutions and who,

somehow, got caught up in the debating culture, to talk

things through and explore other possibilities.

Growing up in Soweto as a young African girl in a

space determined by the State, one was also isolated.

With limited experiences and exposure to anything

else, in addition to not being able to take family

vacations where you would be exposed to a wider

world, one was further isolated. Thankfully, I was

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exposed to a wide range of books that expanded my

horisons. By the time I was ten years old, I belonged to

the Young Women’s Christian Association, YWCA.

“I am grateful to the women within the YWCA,

who took the trouble to take in a ten-year-old under

their wings and exposed me to reading. Of course,

growing up in the townships of South Africa also

meant that you were exposed to the tyranny of white

people. The first encounter with white people was

never a healthy experience. It was a white person who

was either a doctor in a clinic, who would give you the

fearful injection, or some white policemen, kicking

down your door because your father did not have a

particular document or has been accused of some

misdemeanour. Those were the experiences that began

to form in my mind that there was something

fundamentally-wrong with the situation. As I grew up,

I associated with youth clubs, particularly the Christian

youth clubs. It is within these organisations that I

began to, not only see that, ‘something is

fundamentally wrong with the situation’, but that it

could be fixed. By the age of fourteen to sixteen years,

I was not going to tolerate it any longer.

As Mrs Mkhabela was referring to the YWCA, I

could see how the organisation had lived up to

expectations as has been confidently-stated in their

philosophy: “Providing resources and opportunities to

develop the leadership of women and girls without

distinction of race, gender, colour and nationality.”

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The organisation, which has been in existence for

eighty-six years, is also known for providing

accommodation for young women. As part of its

mandate to recognise human rights, the YWCA has

also contributed greatly towards fighting for

democracy in South Africa. Mrs Mkahabela is among

some of the great leaders who have been nurtured by

the YWCA.

74


The Head Boy

“Books and specific media became a great deflection for negative

peer pressure and influence. Whilst heavily involved in politics

and the lure of peer pressure ever present, I was also mindful of

the fact that education was a privilege I should not let slip. Politics

had its own time.” – Dr Popo Molefe, former Naledi High

School student.

T

Oday the interview takes me to former North

West Premier Dr Popo Molefe’s office in

Sandton, Johannesburg. I am looking forward

to seeing him. The last time I had seen him was in

Sandton when he had brought his family for dinner at

our restaurant in Grayston Drive, Sandton. It had been

good serving them their favourite seafood family

platter. Molefe and his family had been patrons at the

same place, long before we had taken over the

restaurant. After we had taken care of the obligatory

formalities and after a brief catching up, we got straight

into the interview.

“I am from a big family of nine children,” Molefe

says, in his opening statement. “Of these, the five of us

were brought up by my aunt, Rakgadi, in Emndeni,

which is part of what is known notoriously as the ‘Wild

West’ in Soweto. My aunt worked as a domestic

worker, so most of the time we were left to our own

devices, as children, to fend for ourselves. “My most

memorable moments about Naledi High School were

the times when we were sitting for the examinations.

75


I marveled at the way Mr Rudolph Mtimkulu, the

school principal, approached this period. A down to

earth, inspiring, and a well-read leader, Mr. Mtimkulu

– on a regular basis – would give us motivating

messages at assembly. I also loved politics and would

seize every moment to politicise the pupils.

“The Black Consciousness Movement meetings at

the DOCC (Donaldson Orlando Community Centre)

in Orlando East, coupled with the South African

Students Organization, SASO publications, helped us

to articulate the Black Consciousness philosophy. We

kept ourselves informed about what was happening

outside of our borders by listening to ‘Radio Freedom’.

The 1 st of May stands out for me, as it was the day we

used to mobilise the local community for them to

understand and celebrate what was happening in our

borders, and in Mozambique, indicating that freedom

here, at home was a real possibility. We learnt a lot

from each other, as friends and colleagues. Bruce

Moeketsi, who was better known as Captain Lentswe,

was one such friend. He came from a family that was

well-read, and brought books which we circulated

among the group. Oupa Molapisi, on the other hand,

specialised in Greek philosophy. With his knowledge

and deep insight, our discussions and debates went to

greater heights. So, there was a lot of peer pressure

among us, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. This

had played a considerable role in determining who we

were, with a dual role that may steer young people in

the right or wrong direction. Best friends, however,

have positive influence on their peers. Positive peer

pressure can promote good values and a desire to

aspire for more in life, and to be a better human being.

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“Peer pressure is also difficult to handle and I am

not attempting to make it look easy. Prior to politics,

my heart belonged to jazz music, and the rendezvous

sessions at joints or places that came with being a jazz

fanatic, as well as travelling every weekend, locally and

out of town. With the heavy drinking at these sessions,

I soon had to make a choice: I was either going to allow

the jazz syndicate’s sessions to consume me or abdicate

my commitment to the students’ group. I chose the

latter, to the detriment of my relations. Fighting peer

pressure became more difficult as I made goalorientated

choices. I cannot attribute the ability to

fighting this pressure to just being strong-willed only.

There is more to peer pressure than being just strongwilled.

Peer pressure may also be related to brain

development. Research indicates that between the ages

of twelve to twenty, the brain is still developing. The

ability to reason and control impulse is limited, and so

are the inability to project the future and to understand

the possible consequences of the risks taken. It is more

important to follow the crowd, no matter the results of

their actions. So the influence of the people around me

was critical.

“Books and specific media became a great

deflection for negative peer pressure and influences.

Whilst heavily involved in politics and the lure of peer

pressure ever present, I was also mindful of the fact

that education was a privilege I should not let slip.

Politics had its own time.

“My neighborhood provided me with significant

adults who helped me to transition into adulthood.

They enjoyed telling me stories around politics, further

enhancing my love for politics. People like Ntate David

77


Mahopo, one of the best organisers of the ANC, and

Mr Frank Modiba the oldest member of the South

African Communist Party. Ntate Modiba had no

formal education and he taught himself how to read,

and that fascinated me. They served as good models

for healthy relationships and became an avenue for me

to develop and appreciate my self-worth.

“Adults influence adolescents in a good or bad way,

and teachers are no exception. My teachers were a great

source of encouragement. I had these constant bouts

of anger and turmoil as I struggled to understand why

I had to face the humiliation of not being able to pay

school fees, the lack of uniforms and books. Patiently

and lovingly, they would calm me down as I rebelled

against this frustration of not being provided for.

“Thanks to a bursary fund that had been arranged

by Mr Dlamlenze and the Rotary Club funding, my

school life became less humiliating. Even though we

never had a proper and stable mathematics and science

teacher, we made passing our business. A ‘pass’ did not

mean an ‘E’ or ‘F’ symbol, but an ‘A’ or ‘B’ mark. The

greatest business of being a learner is to learn and

produce what you have learnt. Diligence and discipline

were important elements of learning, which – at times

– must come with a sacrifice. Society plays a major role

in shaping the character and attitude of a child, giving

them hope beyond their circumstances, and hope that

there is something more. It is the small things that

bring hope to the life of a child. Little things like a book

a teacher gives to a student (a teacher who, himself, has

nothing); or a teacher handing over a student to the

next class teacher: At this point, Molefe had recalled,

with a lamenting heart, the following scene: “Please look

78


after this child. Do not let his background of poverty get in the

way. I will assist where I can,” One poor teacher would say

to another as they pledged their support around my

getting a good education. The memory of this incident

is so vivid and clear in my mind, it is like yesterday.”

“I had no father figure. Very early on in my life, I

got a sense that – given the circumstances of my life –

I had to find the best responsible way to approach life.

Like many of my peers, I sold apples on the trains,

became a caddy and pushed grocery trolleys at

supermarkets, together with Isaac Motaung. The only

time I missed my father was when it was time to

account for being behind with my school fees (which I

received only once from him). As I had already

mentioned, I was surrounded by caring men in my

neighborhood. Mr Bokala, Willie Bokala’s dad, was one

of them. One was raised by a whole village, so to speak.

I can count the Kgaladi family of Bra Sugar and Sis

Jane, Mrs Nhlapo, Miki Tsagae and my colleague,

Tebello Motapanyane. These individuals created a

secure environment for me.

“Parents have a greater influence over their kids

than they would ever realise. Young people appreciate

when the adults take an interest in their likes and

dislikes, and they are concerned about their safety, and

protecting them from drugs, sex or smoking. Most

parents abdicate their responsibilities and leave their

children to drown in the ills of society. Consumed by

their own problems, they excuse themselves and say:

‘It is their own lives, if they make all the wrong

choices.’

79


“I also had to constantly reflect on my life, the

implications of my conduct and where I wanted to be.

As I reflect, now, I could see that matters of pleasure

had nothing to do with the future plans of someone

who would have intended on becoming a good citizen

in future. I needed to tone down and make tough

decisions. Organised positive aspects of youth culture

activities provide our youth with valuable experiences.

They provide a context in which the youth are

emotionally and intellectually engaged in exploring

identities, thus enhancing social skills and personal

development. Religion also played an important part in

character formation, and in protecting me against peer

pressure.

“The Teen Outreach programme was a good outlet

for us. Talking and learning about how life was

changing. Though not obsessively religious, it helped

me a great deal.”

My innocent remark on Popo’s wellbeing since I

had last seen him, took the discussion to a very dark

period – a period of savage police torture. The

conversation takes a different form – emotional and

somber – and a scenario that I have come to be familiar

with, as I interview these political stalwarts; a pain I

have yet to get used to.

“A burst eardrum, with no medical attention for a

month; a body so beaten up that I could not walk for

three months. The effects of the torture are still with

me, thirty-seven years later,” Dr Molefe recalls,

painfully.

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My thoughts went back to my interview with Enos

Ngutshane and his wife, Ann, during which similar

harrowing moments were recounted, so I seize the

moment and ask Dr Molefe: “How often do you talk

about your experiences that you had gone through in

police custody and exile?”

In response, he says: “Not often Eunice. We never

had time to even go for counselling. As soon as we

were released, we were on the run again, doing what

needs to be done. Perhaps I will write a memoir. Maybe

that will heal me.”

For the most part, interviewing the June 1976

heroes has been enjoyable. When they start relaying the

suffering they went through as young teenagers in

detention and in the bushes in exile and how their

political lives had affected family relationships and

changed family dynamics, it is then – and only then –

that the sadness creeps in, and takes a toll on me, as I

write the book. My interviews with Dr Molefe and

Enos Ngutshane did that as they had relayed their

experiences.

Like the torture that had happened in custody,

prisons and police cells while an individual is tied up or

bound to something, all in a bid to get information and

force them to admit to a crime or sign a statement. And

the torture that is used to punish, degrade and break

them down with permanent physical impairments, as

Dr Molefe and Enos have explained. I am forced to

think back to Popo’s life, long before the Delmas Trial

in 1984. In 1974, Dr Molefe was an active leader, even

outside the school, and he used to sensitise us to the

abnormal situation of Apartheid and the power we had

81


to change the situation – all of which he used to do in

his soft but firm voice. Dr Molefe walked around the

townships, doing house visits. A true foot soldier

indeed!

Listening to them sharing their pain, suffering and

loss forced me to remember. To remember the

brutality of the Apartheid government to those who

stood up against them, and the many who died on 16

June 1976, and years before, and after: Explosions –

Onkgopotse Tiro in 1974, Beaten to death – Steve Biko

in 1977,Abducted and burnt to death – 1985, Cradock Four

– Matthew Goniwe, Fort Calata, Sparrow Mkhonto

and Sicelo Mhlauli; Chemical Poisoning – Reverend Frank

Chikane in 1989 and Paralyzed for life – Poppy Buthelezi

in 1976. And, the list is long and painful, indeed!

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The Head Girl

“By the time our girls get to high school, they already have a

strong sense of who they are and who they want to become.

Teachers merely affirm and help confirm what they feel about

themselves. In cases where our girls suffer from low self-esteem,

they begin to have role models by copying trends from others. If

students are well-rooted from home in who they are, they will be

able to make the right choices and not be easily swayed.” –

Zanele Mthembu, former Naledi High School student.

Z

anele Mthembu has been playing a custodian

role for her alma mater long before the Naledi

High School Heritage organising committee

had come to be. My first contact with her was on 16

June 2012, at the Centenary Celebration torch lighting

ceremony. The invite had indicated that the event

would start at six in the morning, which was not so

pleasant a time during the winter season. Only a few

committed individuals were there, on time, and Ms

Mthembu was one of them. You must be wired with

tenacity and strong will to be able to ensure that which

needs to happen. Ms Mthembu has it in her to attain

the seemingly impossible. With her gentle spirit, she

quietly inspires the teachers, students and parents of

Naledi High School to want to achieve more and

improve the matric results. Tshepo Maphosa, an

educator at the school and curator of the classroom

museum, refers to her as a foot soldier.

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Concerned that the plans for the school’s golden

anniversary are way behind, Maphosa shares his

concern with Ms Mthembu, and she replies: “Well sir, if

the existing committee is not delivering, you have to elect another

committee.”

That polite gentle answer got Mr Maphosa rolling

into action, culminating with the celebratory event on

8 June 2013. The Centenary Torch Lighting

Celebration on June 16, 2012 at Naledi was a

memorable one, with the torch so near and real, yet so

far from 16 June 1976. Somehow, thirty-six years later

– since the burning of the police vehicle – the torch

brought the history of Naledi High as a Heritage centre

in a full circle. The emotions of that day are difficult to

put on paper. The feeling is a reflective one, laden with

memories of those who had laid their lives for us to

experience freedom. It was, therefore, not ironic that –

as he was holding the torch – an emotional Ngutshane

had rejoiced: “I am alive, I am alive, thank God, I am alive”

– and, thus, he had succinctly put our democracy into

perspective.

Unlike most of us, who regard our professions as a

default, Ms Mthembu is a teacher, through and

through. Her face lights up as she recalls her days at

Protea North in Soweto as a school principal.

“The welcoming group hug from the children every

morning was the highlight of my daily routine of

managing the school,” she recalls with a warm smile.

Watching her walking around the premises of

Naledi High School, one witnesses the evidence of an

ardent foot soldier. Concerned about the physical

safety of the learners (things that most of us overlook),

84


she ensured that the roof was attended to.

Custodianship is inspired by a desire to be used as an

instrument of giving. During the advocacy breakfast –

when the committee was frantically looking for

funding for the school’s fiftieth anniversary event – Ms

Mthembu took us back to the fundamentals of

receiving. Unless we as the community Naledi High

School and one of the nine Heritage Schools give, we

shall not be able to attract any funding. Inspired to

commit to a project within their means, the students

were the first to take on the challenge, and went on a

fundraising drive.

It is with immense pride that Ms Mthembu speaks

of the leadership of 1976, at a time when she was the

head girl, alongside Dr Molefe, who was the head boy.

Taking us back to the day, 16 June1976. For her, the

day had started with the challenge of having to keep a

secret of her involvement and the preparations for the

march from her mother; the preparations which had

started long before 16 June 1976. Most of the parents

of the youths who were involved in the activities that

were linked to the June 1976 student protests were

regarded as possible informers. Informers by not

seeing the way out of the Apartheid, and also fearful

and terrified of the Nationalist Party. Writing the

placards, which the students had to bring to the school,

created nervousness from her mother. A young Ms

Mthembu had managed to lie her way out of the house,

and got to write her related protest message in peace.

Like diligent soldiers, the students of 1976 took

instructions from their leaders with precise accuracy

and a sense of order and discipline, which was a

sentiment that was also echoed by Oupa Ngwenya in

85


chapter eight. With great jubilation and delight, she

also recalls being in the choir. Music is one of the

heritage and legacy projects of Naledi High School.

Willy Bokala attests to this earlier in the book. Ms

Mthembu was well known for her beautiful singing

voice, particularly in the girls’ choir competitions; a

talent she continues to explore. She shares the same

sentiments with Mrs Mkhabela and Dr Molefe about

the roles that their teachers had played in their lives.

“My life was influenced and shaped, to a great

extent, by my school teachers. Mrs Mpati was one such

teacher,” Ms Mthembu says, proudly. “High schools

are where the grooming of young girls takes place,” She

emphasises. “This is partially true because grooming

starts at home, with mothers raising awareness in their

daughters about the importance of looking after

themselves, sometimes sending them insinuating

messages, never really coming out clearly about what

they really meant.”

Ms Mthembu went on to explain that they take their

daughters shopping while the girls predictably roll their

eyes over their mothers’ fashion sense, which they

interpret as being fashion nonsense. But, at the same

time, they appreciate their mothers’ honest feedback

and practical advice. The also take them to the hair

salons, for their long hours of braiding, and – in many

other ways – the mothers are practically involved in

their girl children’s grooming.

“This is also the stage where they start warning

them about sexuality, helping them understand that

they are more than enough, guiding them towards the

fullness of being a woman,” she says. “By the time they

86


get to high school, they already have a strong sense of

who they are and who they want to become, and the

teachers merely affirm and help confirm what they

already feel about themselves. In cases where our girls

suffer from low self-esteem, they begin to have role

models by copying trends from others. If students are

well-rooted from home in who they are, they will be

able to make the right choices and not be easily

swayed.”

It is on this basis that Mrs Mkhabela also spoke

about parenting forming the root of who our children

become or fail to become. “The upbringing of the

mothers was informed by secrecy in so far as discussing

life issues,” Ms Mthembu explains. “Romantic

relationships and sexually related subjects. Such topics

were regarded as taboo; hence it is difficult for mothers

to talk to their girl children, they leave that up to the

teachers.”

Ms Mthembu insists that such a scenario cannot be

allowed to continue, and – elaborating further on the

same subject – she says: “The impact of peer pressure

increases during periods of uncertainty. Teenagers are,

therefore, an ideal target for the market buzz. They

spend most of their time online, listening to music or

watching television. If we do not engage them, we

allow the media to raise them for us.”

Mrs Mkhabela had referred to such a situation,

earlier, as abdicating our responsibility to raising our

children, adding that – at the same time – we must be

mindful of the need to be parents – and, not friends –

to our children. “Remember they already have

friends,” she clarifies.

87


“So what they need is a parent to guide them;

experts keep reminding us.”

A parent in her own right, Ms Mthembu is breaking

this taboo as she engages with her own daughter in an

informative and fun way, which she has said oftentimes

involves taking an interest in what music her daughter

is listening to, knowing and reading the magazines that

are targeted for young girls, familiarising herself with

social media and taking an interest in her daughter’s

personal life; but without infringing on her privacy.

“Parenting skills that are offered through governing

bodies, (if parents attend) are also a valuable tool

offered by the department of education to equip

parents in this advancing dynamic environment,” Ms

Mthembu says, and then she asks, rhetorically: “Are

there any more Mrs Mpati’s out there?” Then she adds:

“The answer is yes, more so now than before, because

of the increased number of learners in schools.”

As an illustration, she says, teachers have taken the

role of fostering orphans and using their personal

resources to provide support to learners in need. But

she says the difference is that, in the past, society

appreciated and thanked teachers more than it is the

case today.

“This brings memories of how our mothers in the

sixties and seventies would make sure that there is a

little parcel wrapped up meticulously to take to school

at the end of the term, specially prepared as gifts of

gratitude for the teachers. Our mothers and grannies

would offer gifts of eggs that would have been hatched

by the free-running chickens in the back yard, milk

from the cows or vegetables from the garden.

88


Society needs to appreciate teachers!”

Ms Mthembu’s thoughts made me reflect on some

of the teachers I got to observe as I was writing the

book. The legacy of Mrs Mpati lives on through many

other former Naledi High School students. And one

such student is Glory Bokala, who is teacher and a

former student at the school, and is also in the

management team that is making great efforts to

rehabilitate the academic performance of the school;

especially focusing on the matric examinations results.

Mrs Bokala believes that discipline is effective if you

talk to the learners and expect them to follow the

instructions given. “The challenge is in expecting the

learners to follow the rules,” she says. “This requires

that you should be an example of what you expect

from your students.”

Her classroom’s atmosphere is epitomised by order,

discipline and a sense that the children actually

understand why they are in school. Hers is a serene

class, without noise – whether she is in the classroom

or not. She presents herself, and goes around doing her

daily work in a way that demonstrates discipline and

order.

Mrs Bokala, the same way as Ms Mthembu, is wellgroomed

and dresses immaculately, which

complements her polite, yet authoritative nature with

which she gets the job done. Interestingly, Mrs Bokala

and her husband, Willie Bokala, are both former

students of Naledi High School but – as she often

reminds me – they met when Mr Bokala had left the

school already.

89


“The school environment of Naledi High

influenced who I have become,” she says, and adds:

“I am that heritage. I live the legacy through my

leadership in the education structure of our country

and through my music.”

Ms Mthembu is also concerned about the welfare

of the teachers. She brings this to light as she gives

clarity and perspective on the misconception about the

teacher unions.

“There is a widespread misconception about the

role played by unions in education. Due to abuse and

victimisation of teachers that took place in the past, it

was necessary for the teachers to have a voice and

representation. The union is a key stakeholder that

represents the aspirations of teachers to the

government. There is ongoing regulated engagement

from branches at regional and provincial level. It is

important for us, as a community in the education

system, not to pretend to be ignorant on labour issues.

Most of the union’s engagement revolves around

labour practices.”

Getting worked up, Ms Mthembu sighs and

remarks: “This subject needs a book on its own! The

unions have contributed a lot in correcting policies and

have signed several progressive collective agreements

to help regulate the relationship between the employer

and employee.”

Back to her favourite subject, the children, Ms

Mthembu says: “The grooming of our children should

start with us, as a community, having their welfare at

heart. We must funnel all cynicism into noble ends.

90


Hurling criticism against teachers does not bring about

any good, but indirectly sabotages the environment for

our own children.

As our girls travel on the road to womanhood –

encountering fears and difficulties – teachers and

mothers form part of a circle that helps and guide

them. Unless society sees teachers as part of this circle

and mothers continue to criticise the teachers, we will

fail to raise girls who will be able to come to their

fullness; into womanhood.”

On The Road To Womanhood

Author Unknown

Be free to be you, be strong,

Yet gentle.

Be proud, yet loving.

May your body always

Be a blessing to you.

A sacred grove of love and pleasure.

So, care for your body

As you would for a beautiful garden.

Your womb can now bring forth new life.

But remember, yours is the power,

The power to open or close

The gates of life in your garden.

Therefore, yours is the responsibility

To be a conscious Gardner.

91


6

8th June 1976

Room 8

“Until the 8th of June, 1976 – when the Special Branch came

to pick up Enos Ngutshane – I was ignorant of the politics of

the day. Politics were for the debating team and Student

Christian Movement members, so I had believed.” – Naledi

High School educator Mr Andrew Moeletsi.

A

ndrew Moeletsi, from Moletsane Soweto, is a

history teacher with a flair for arts. He studied

fine art for a year at Soshanguve in Pretoria. He

is among those at the school who are burdened by the

learners’ poor academic performance, and is part of the

School Management Team, SMT who are trying, very

hard, to remedy the situation. He is also one of the

teachers I always find at the school after hours on

weekdays and on weekends with his head swamped in

a pile of spread sheets, books and papers in the staff

92


room – which is also the official boardroom of the 50 th

anniversary organising committee. His demeanour

gives the notion that he does not want to be disturbed.

As my research for the book had been developing, I

got to be introduced to him as one of the two teachers

at the school who is also a former student of Naledi

High School. An alumni and school management

member, all packed in one, was a rare and valuable

combination, indeed.

“My life has always been influenced by Naledi High

School,” Moeketsi says, as we start to chat. “Indirectly,

I had been inspired by my elder sister, who is a former

student of Naledi High School, because she always

spoke highly about the school. Directly, I was

motivated by my two favourite teachers at Moletsane

Secondary School, who were also both from Naledi

High School. When transition time came for matric,

Naledi High School became my first choice. Thirty

years later, I am still here…”

Now that the conversation is underway, Moeketsi

relates several historical aspects that had seemingly

informed his decision to complete his high school

career at Naledi High School:

“It had all began with the government converting

the schools from community entities to government

institutions in the nineteen seventies. Their thinking

was that African township parents were not entirely in

control of their children, and the State could do a better

job. Notice boards were erected widely, declaring

schools as government properties, and warning on

restricted entries. Along with the confiscation of

community properties came the regulation that all

93


students had to reapply for admission to these new

government structures. The vocational school in

Molapo was the new registration centre and there was

a deadline, which most of us missed. As always,

students with astute minds found the means to shortcircuit

the system. Long before photocopying was

known of, this one student had photocopies of

registration forms and ran a lucrative business, selling

the forms. With reregistration, the Apartheid

government had thought that their game was wellplanned:

The buildings and students were under their

authority and the decree of Bantu Education was now

going to be put in place, without any hindrance.

“The one thing I got to sense very quickly about the

school, was the martial spirit. It was evident during the

extramural activities, in which the school sought to win

at all costs, in whichever sports they were involved in.

“Room 8 at Naledi High School in the seventies

was one of fifteen classrooms in the school. The day

of 8 June 1976 was a normal day for me in Room 8,

which incidentally, is presently my teaching class base.

Until the day of 8 of June 1976 – when the Special

Branch came to pick up Enos Ngutshane – I was

ignorant of the politics of the day. For me, the issues

of politics were for the debating team and Student

Christian Movement, SCM members; so I had

believed. The buzz around Enos Ngutshane’s incident

with the Special Branch had instigated curiosity and,

later, a passion for politics for my friends and I.

Information about political activities was a tightly-kept

secret amongst the inner circle for fear of leakage of

information to the police.

94


“What I remember about the day is the sudden

commotion that was caused by a burning police vehicle

(a Volkswagen Beetle) in the school yard. Upon

enquiring, we had found out that it was an act of

retaliation by the students. This took us by surprise. Up

until then, everything around us had told us that the

Nationalist government and its officials were all

powerful and all knowing. And that they were mini

gods, and to whom we were never to speak, unless we

were to be spoken to. For the first time in history, we

witnessed an open defiance of the regime by young

people, bringing us to an awakening of recognising the

power we had, as a youth. The Power slogan – which

was referring to “Black Power” – was shouted out at

every corner, and had showed that the Black

Consciousness Movement philosophy had infiltrated

the schools. And it spread like wild fire into the

townships; and it was exhilarating! From that moment

on, I had become politicised. The training involved a

series of meetings and informal discussions. Not only

could we fight the injustice of our daily lives, but that

of the government. This was foreign to me as a

neophyte in politics, and I liked it!

June 16 1976 March and Route

“Mr Molope, the then headmaster, understood the

politics of the day and was very sympathetic to the

plight of the students. In preparation for the 16 June

1976 march, the high school learners were tasked with

collecting the secondary school learners, on their way

to Orlando Stadium. Mr Molope had addressed the

assembly that morning and had wished us well. From

the student leaders, the message was a plea for order

and discipline.

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The students had marched from Naledi to Orlando

Stadium in Orlando East. From Naledi High the next

pick-up point was…

• Thabo Secondary School [previously

Batswana “Junior Secondary School], which is

located close to Naledi High School, in a south

eastern direction, to be specific. It is for this

reason that, even today, the two schools work

closely together. Like well-disciplined soldiers,

the learners were gathered at the small gate as

they waited for the Naledi High School

learners to arrive, before proceeding to…

• Thomas Mofolo (Diranteng), we passed the

Esso Petrol Garage down Phulaneng, across

the first bridge, crossing into Tladi, and leading

us to…

• Tladi Secondary School then to… then,

onwards, to Moletsane Secondary School.

Turning into Koma Street, we passed the

Rantol Petrol Garage, then crossed the railway

line, and proceeded towards the second bridge,

then crossed over to…

• Mafori Mphahlele High School in Molapo.

From Molapo, we went through Mofolo and

passed Dube Village

• At the Vocational College, we turned right at

the YMCA in Dube, and we then went down

to…

• Until we had reach the Uncle Toms Hall

Orlando West!

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“This is where we discovered that things had taken

a bad turn. Lying beside Hector Peterson was the body

of a Chinese man. He had been shot while he was on

his way to sell and deliver cold meat. We could not

proceed to Orlando Stadium. The police had taken

over the march with gunfire. Even outside of politics,

Naledi High School’s boys had an inherent fighting

spirit in them. This is attested by Enos Ngutshane and

David Kutumela as they relate events of one other

fateful day, which we shall call the ‘traffic cop saga’.

Ngutshane and Kutumela become so fired up

whenever they relate the story that you literally have to

stay out of their way as their gestures become dramatic

and their emotions get intense.”

Moeketsi refers to this intensity as being discipline.

“A suspect in a case of having allegedly harassed

one of their girls, the traffic officer was expected to be

made to account for his actions. In Battalions of ten

youths each, they had unsuspectingly walked from

Naledi to Zondi to the house of the traffic officer, who

would later be rescued by his wife and school principal.

Later, as punishment, the students were kept at Protea

Police Station for a few days. In the same militant style,

they also disciplined a local councilor who was

suspected of reporting the students’ political activities

to the police; that is, being an informer.

“We were always cautious in the way we enforced

discipline and order, never to kill,” Concludes

Moeletsi, emphasising a sentiment that has been

echoed by Ngutshane and Kutumela, among several

other Naledi High School alumni.

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98

7

The Letter


“With time, I got to understand that the issue around Afrikaans

was a deliberate attempt by the apartheid regime to take control

of our education and our lives.” – Former Naledi High

School student Enos Ngutshane.

A

s the story of Naledi High School unfolds, there

is one character that is constantly mentioned:

Enos Ngutshane. When I finally get the

opportunity to sit down with him, it is with much

anticipation and excitement. We meet over a cup of tea

at Naledi High School in Soweto on a Saturday

morning. On this occasion, the tea is served with

township scones baked by Ms Keneilwe Losaba, a

parent, school governing body member, and the local

baked cakes supplier in the neighborhood.

Remarkably, Losaba is a former student of Naledi High

School herself and her children are also learners at the

school. But it is her baking skills that has formed a

strong bond between Losaba and myself.

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As far as the interview is concerned, there are no

formalities needed as I have been working with

Ngutshane and his wife, Ann, for some time now in

preparation for the school’s 50 th Anniversary

celebrations. And I have come to admire Enos and the

way he conducts himself; both as a husband and father.

Below is how Ngutshane shares his story:

Life in Zola Township Soweto

“I was born in the shantytown of Masakeng, a slum

that was established by community leader James

“Sofasonke” Mpanza in defiance of the Group Areas

Act. I am the third of eleven children. At the age of

two, my family moved to Moroka and later to deep

Soweto, to Zola. What is strange about my childhood

is that all of my siblings, except me, were sent to the

then Eastern Transvaal, now known as Mpumalanga,

to be raised by my grandparents. My father was of the

idea that I needed to be with him all the time in Soweto

as he did not want me to trouble his parents, which had

sent a disconcerting message to my young mind.

“My schooling started at the time when the system

of education was changing from alphabets to vowels in

the lower grades. My father had put in a lot of effort in

preparing me for school, teaching me the 26 alphabets

in the old-fashioned way (A, B, C… and so on).

Meanwhile, back at the school, the teacher was

teaching me differently, as we had to start with the five

vowels (A, E, I, O, U…). Of course, my father being a

lay person, did not know about the Primary School

Curriculum and the changes that were taking place. His

efforts had created a lot of confusion, frustration and

resentment which had gradually grown into

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rebelliousness on my side. Coupled with this was the

fact that my home language was a mixture of my

mother’s Sepedi and my father’s Swati language. These

were not prominent township languages in Zola, then.

My parents did not have an agreement on our official

family languages, either; and that had left me to be

embattled with a mixture of many languages, to the

amusement of other children. As a result, I was

nicknamed ‘Mchacks’ – meaning ‘Mshangane’ for a

XiTsonga-speaking person.

“That nickname had then emerged from this

debacle and the confusion with the different local

languages. This struggle with the languages was to also

cost me an extra year at school. Thankfully, with the

help of good teachers like Mrs Zwane and Mrs Mxasa

at Busisiwe Primary School in Zola, I managed to

move up, onto the next grade.

“Zola was a notorious part of Soweto, and was full

of criminal elements, including the Basotho criminals,

who were known as ma-Russia. Individuals who were

different always stood out. My father’s insinuation of

me being a troubled child came to be true as I got

involved with the negative elements of the crimeinfested

community of Zola. Fortunately, it was never

the heavy crime of murders and robbery that I got

caught up with; just petty fights, which – unfortunately

– led to my arrest. I spent a few grueling months at the

Johannesburg Fort Prison, which was also commonly

-referred to as ‘Number Four’ then. It was also an

experience that had made me look at life from a

different perspective altogether. The four families of

the children who had been involved in the arrest and

incarceration had managed to negotiate an agreement

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with the affected parties and the charges, which were

dropped, ultimately. I remember the day we were

released. It was a Wednesday afternoon and Saturday

was Christmas day, that month. The timing couldn’t

have been better. I was thankful and filled with

remorse, as well. It is against this background that I

began to seriously view my surroundings in a different

light.

So every afternoon, I began to notice two school

girls, Thandi Dladla and Pinky Solonsi, walking by on

our street after school. It was not their looks or their

immaculate black and white Naledi High School

uniform that had grabbed my attention, but the spoken

language.

These two Naledi High School students were

expressing themselves eloquently in English. Those

days, the use of spoken English was very rare in our

townships. Every afternoon, my friend and I would

walk behind these two ladies, and we would eavesdrop

on their conversations, and we would also try to mimic

what they were saying. From then on, I was bitten by

the bug of the English language. Later in my life,

writings by crime thrillers author James Hadley Chase

became the novels of choice for me. I would read a lot;

trying to beat the language confusion that had hounded

me for many years. English was later to open doors for

me to enable me to debate and exchange ideas with my

fellow students. Those who read books and novels for

leisure also belonged to the debating team at Naledi

High School. Being at the school under the leadership

of Mr Rudolph Mtimkulu had also perfected my

grooming even further.

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Leadership and Political Grooming

“At this time, the atmosphere in the township was

already influenced by several movements. One of

them being the Latin American Gustavo Gutiérrez

movement type of liberation theology. It is the

liberation theology that drove us to the Christian youth

clubs. This is also the reason why the church had

played such an important role in liberating us. In

Mozambique, the Frelimo guerilla war was coming to

an end. And, in South Africa, the Black Consciousness

Movement had taken over. We all came from the Black

Consciousness teachings. The movement was driven

by Steve Biko, Abram Tiro and others. They were

talking about self-respect and ‘Black Power’ – telling us

that it was possible for us to stand up on our own, and

that we should challenge the regime and liberate

ourselves.

“By this time, Naledi High School was a popular

school that was attracting students from all parts of

Soweto, including places as far as Kagiso. One of these

students, Puleng Muso, later became the director at the

West Rand District Health Department. We had

monthly sessions at the Naledi Community Hall, where

eminent people and esteemed guest speakers were

invited by the principal to address students on a variety

of topical issues. Some of the topics that come to mind

are; etiquette, health, hygiene, entrepreneurship,

accounting and financial management. People

including Dr Motlana, Mrs Sally Motlana and Dr

Matlhare were regular guest speakers. Having acquired

these basic skills, at home I was entrusted with

managing my father’s bank book and the local

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neighborhood stokvel’s kitty. Clearly, these talks were

empowering, as I came to realise later in life. For one

who had been raised by absentee parents, this

information about life orientation skills was critical for

me. My father was employed as a truck driver and

drove long distances, while my mother worked for long

hours as a domestic worker in places such as Newclare,

Melville and Rosettenville.

Late in my teens, I was recruited by Sibongile

Mthembu and Ntando Gxuluwe to join the Teen

Outreach Youth Club in Naledi. It was at the Teen

Outreach Youth Club where I got an opportunity to

acquire more skills, such as public speaking,

management and leadership and understanding group

dynamics. The youth Club was established by

Reverend Nehru Raboroko and was based at the

International Assemblies of God Church building in

Naledi. Reverend Raboroko is presently running a

counselling centre at Naledi High School.

“As I have mentioned, already, I enjoyed reading, as

my father was reading the freely-distributed Apartheid

propaganda journals such as Intuthuko and Tswelelopele.

I, on the other hand, would be reading religious

journals that were addressing Christianity, poverty,

discrimination and Liberation Theology. These

magazines gave me a glimpse of the world beyond the

world that Apartheid was then defining and presenting

to us; which was a world that was defined by where you

should be walking, for example, not on the pavement

but on the street, with cars, because the pavement was

for white people. This would also be about where we

should stand in the queue at the bank or post office,

especially not in the same queue as white people; as

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well as which public toilets to use, particularly not the

ones which would have been designated for white

people. This was an abnormal society, and it needed to

be changed by us, for ourselves.

“I moved quickly within the confines of leadership

at Teen Outreach Youth Clubs, and up to the point of

being elected as the president in 1975. The Teen

Outreach and Youth Alive movements in Dube were

great youth organisations in Soweto that really

transformed our thinking as the youth. My role and

responsibilities were also growing as I became more

active in the local political structures. When David

Kutumela joined Naledi High School, he mobilised us

to join the South African Student Movement, SASM,

and he even assisted us in establishing a branch at

Naledi High School. I was later elected as the secretary

of the newly-formed local branch of the South African

Student Movement, SASM. In the meanwhile, the

Christian Youth Clubs were taking a different direction

and were getting more politicised and outspoken. They

were driven by the liberation theology. This was meant

to ensure that all South Africans had a right to vote.

And that was our main aim!

Liberation Theology and Home-Based Prayer

Meetings

“The turning point in my life was a series of

experiences with different individuals and

organisations. But what had really impacted my

thinking was the advent of the Liberation Theology in

the seventies. The Peruvian priest and theologian,

Gustavo Gutierrez, who was then regarded as the father

of Liberation Theology, had believed that theology had

105


to address itself to the social and political concerns of

Latin America by learning from the attempts of the

poor to liberate themselves from the various

oppressive structures. He had then challenged the

church to accept the demands of the New Testament

and to involve itself in the struggles of the poor; that

is, consciousness-raising evangelism. This teaching had

appealed to me as it emphasised the worth and dignity

of the individual in the sight of God.

Through the Teen Outreach activities, we organised

home-based prayer meetings. These meetings became

a safe way, without the harassment of the police, for us

to educate and awaken the youth. The sermons were

compelling and persuasive, even if I might say so,

myself. Unbeknown to me, the soil was being prepared

for the Struggle, and possibly a revolutionary

transformation. During the students’ uprisings in 1976,

it was after these prayer meetings that some of the

attacks against the regime were planned and executed.

I remember one incident, in particular, where a police

convoy at the corner of Naledi and Zola was attacked

with a petrol bomb. After that mission, we immediately

washed our hands and went straight to the prayer

meeting at Pule Pule’s place in Emndeni. The sermons

were appealing to both the parents and the youth; and

some of the parents even took it upon themselves to

coordinate these prayer meetings. From then on, my

whole life and the sermons that I used to preach at the

Youth Clubs, became an embodiment of the concept

of Liberation Theology. Surprisingly, after more than

thirty years, I still meet up with some of the members

of the clubs, who still remember those sermons. The

sermons, which were then popular, had emphasised

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the character of God in relation to our circumstances:

a God of justice and equality in whose eyes there was

no racial preference and prejudice. People understood,

and could even relate to this God and easily dismiss the

propaganda that was fed to them by the then maledominated

Christian Calvinist, colonial paternalistic

and Apartheid churches. In other words, a propaganda

that was spiritualising and justifying the injustices of

Apartheid.

“As we continued to preach and raise awareness,

the communities were beginning to question the

motives of the European-dominated church leaders

and the ruling Apartheid government elite. Apartheid

legislation and regulations that were offensive to

human dignity were now being challenged, openly. The

building of tennis courts and showers at Zola and

surrounding townships became a perfect example.

Overnight, our communities woke up to these funny

structures with indoor showers. In the meantime, our

matchbox-size houses had no electricity and decent

sanitation. According to the Apartheid regime and its

Urban Bantu Councils – who were then disparagingly

nicknamed Useless Boys Choir – one was expected to

walk some kilometres to access a shower at the tennis

courts.

“The prayer meetings, on the other hand, continued

to flourish, giving the communities an opportunity to

discuss ideas of a democratic society at grassroot level.

At school, my role outside the classroom was that of a

self-appointed caretaker for some of my schoolmates

at my home, providing them with meals at lunch

breaks. The local corner shop owner also contributed

to this informal outreach programme, giving me stock

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at no cost and trusting me to provide for the needy

schoolmates. The grocery list was nothing fancy; just a

standardized package of bread, tinned fish, baked

beans, tea and sugar.

Afrikaans as a Medium of Instruction

“My reaction to the announcement by the

Apartheid regime that Afrikaans was to be used as a

medium of instruction in our schools was that of

confusion and frustration. It left me disillusioned, and

– as a result – I could not even stay behind for my usual

extramural activities on that day. Walking back home

in that state, lots of questions had arisen. Trying to

make sense and find clarity around this senseless

instruction, I had struggled, mostly, with its motive. We

saw this as a second blow to our wishes of achieving

our educational goals. The first surprise had come up

when all the so-called Zulu students including myself –

most of whom were the students from Zola, Emndeni

and other areas, except Naledi – were forcefully

removed from Naledi High School to the newly-built

Dr W Vilakazi Secondary School.

“What does it mean to have Afrikaans as a medium

of instruction? How is this going to be implemented?

How is it going to work? What about the teachers? Are

the teachers going to be trained so that they are able to

teach in Afrikaans? Why is it imposed on us; and who

is the mastermind behind this outrageous decision?

My mind was riddled with questions.

“I was convinced that whoever it was who had

come up with this regulation did not understand the

dynamics of the learning environment in township

schools. Particularly because Afrikaans was then a

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language that we hardly spoke beyond Die Praktiese

Taal, the Afrikaans textbook. At Naledi High School,

we only had one teacher who was proficient in

Afrikaans, and that was Mr Modisane. He only spoke

Afrikaans, while the rest of the teachers were struggling

with Afrikaans and some even with English, as well.

My innocent mind had further convinced me that we

really had a ridiculous government; one that was bent

on frustrating us in order to turn us into slaves.

Consumed by this internal dialogue, I had suddenly

found myself at home. Unconscious of the distance I

had just walked and of my surroundings, I threw my

briefcase on the dining room table as soon as I had

arrived at my home. I had then made myself a cup of

tea and a slice of bread with mixed fruit jam, the typical

afternoon township student lunch. After I had gobbled

up my lunch I went back to the intense dialogue that I

was having with myself. Alone in the house, with

nobody to share this senseless pronouncement, my

spirit was now tormented. I kept on coming back to

the same conclusion: Someone needs to know how we

feel about Afrikaans as a medium of instruction.

Writing the Letter

As an office-bearer in various organisations, I wrote

letters all the time. With no cellphones or e-mails back

then, letters were a primary means of communication.

So, my first instinct was to write a letter to someone

about the situation that was confronting us. But to

whom was I supposed to address this letter? Unfamiliar

with the dynamics of Apartheid government

structures, and with no concept of government the

different Ministers’ portfolios; all I had thought that I

needed was an address in Pretoria.

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The name that came to my mind was that of the

Minister of Education. My parents' four-seater dining

room table, which was also my study desk, and a place

to sleep under when we had visitors, was – at this time

– providing for a well-deserved place for my mission

to write the letter. The four-leg Pilot radio system on

the wall below the six-panel window, was gazing at me,

wishing to entertain me with my favourite radio

story…‘Ukubuya kuka Ntsaka Ntsaka ye Daemane’. At

that moment, however, I had no time for that

particular nonsense. ‘Of course,’ I had thought to

myself, ‘It is too early to listen to the Zulu drama series,

as it is only broadcast at night.’ From the look of things,

my surroundings had seemed not to be in sync with my

plight, and could not provide any solace to my

predicament. So, I grabbed my blue pen and began to

write:

Dear Sir

By enforcing Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in our

school, you are now creating a big problem for us, as black

students. You are now closing a door for us to continue with

acquiring decent education. Afrikaans is not our mother

language and it’s a language that we find difficult to understand.

We are not going to have Afrikaans as a medium of instruction

in our school. It is just not possible. Our language preference is

English and nothing else.

(I finish off my short letter with the necessary salutation.)

Sincerely yours

Enos Ngutshane

Naledi High School.

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I had then signed off with a proper signature and

the relevant address at the top, as would have been

required of an official letter. It is important to note

that, although the letter had been written in simple

English, which I could master at that time, it was a

letter that was raising legitimate issues and was meant

to enlighten the authorities about our predicament as

black students. At that stage, I did not see the problem

as a national problem. In my mind, it was only Soweto

which was being affected by this problem. I also did

not see any danger in appending my personal details on

the letter, because it was raising genuine concerns. Also

being oblivious of any political overtones, I did not

foresee the negative response which was to come from

the Apartheid regime, later, as well as the brutality of

its notorious ‘Special Branch’ – in its reaction to the

letter. To me, it was a huge language problem for us, as

black students, and the teachers. On a personal level, it

was yet another bad language experience, one that was

going to impact on my life, negatively, like the language

problems I had when I started my schooling at

Busisiwe Primary School, back in 1963.

Having finished writing the letter, I went to my

meagre cash flow and took three cents and sealed the

envelope. And then, off I went, to Kwa-Xuma Post

Office in Jabulani, where the Jabulani Shopping Mall is

now situated. In the evening, I shared my concerns

about the Afrikaans issue with my father, who

dismissed me with the usual crippling fear of the

Apartheid regime. His response was, ‘Uyabona manje;

usukela amabhunu.’ (You see, now; you are inviting trouble

from the Boers). Back at the school, the issue of Afrikaans

had created a buzz, and I found out that everybody else

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was as concerned as I was. The introduction of

Afrikaans as a medium of instruction was no longer a

personal issue.

“Everyone else was just as troubled. Events were

now developing very fast. The students were

mobilising to resist the regime, and to do everything

else to protect their education. The general feeling was

that Afrikaans as a medium of instruction was going to

mean the end for us. No education, no life and no future.

We took a stand and made a declaration to resist and

fight the system of Bantu Education and the

imposition of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction in

our schools. On 7 June 1954, Dr Hedrick Verwoerd

had addressed the Apartheid Government Senate,

clarifying the position of the Nationalist Party

regarding Bantu Education, by saying:

“My Department’s policy is that Bantu Education should

stand with both feet in the reserves (Bantustans) and have its

roots in the spirit of being a Bantu society. Bantu Education

must be able to give itself complete expression and there it will be

called upon to perform real service. The Bantu must be guided to

serve his own community in all respects. There is no place for him

in the European community above the level of certain forms of

labour, within his community. However, all doors are

open…Until now, he has been subjected to a school system which

drew him away from his own community and misled him by

showing him the green pasture of European society in which he

was not allowed to graze”

Dr Verwoerd continued with his oppressive speech

and his destructive mission, aimed at black South

Africans, by saying: “The general aims… are to transform

education for natives into Bantu Education...

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A Bantu pupil must obtain knowledge, skills and attitudes

which will be useful and advantageous to him and at the same

time beneficial to the community… The school must equip him

to meet the demands which economic life of South Africa will

impose on him…

What is the use of teaching a Bantu child mathematics when

he cannot use it in practice...That is absurd! Education is after

all not something that hangs in the air.”

The Visit by Police ‘Special Branch’

“With time, I got to understand that the issue

around Afrikaans was a deliberate attempt by the

Apartheid regime to take control of our education and

our lives. I had completely forgotten about the letter

and the focus was now on taking the regime head-on

through other means. It is against this background that

the special branch of the South African Police came to

my home in Zola on a Saturday morning to arrest me.

The African policeman and his white counterpart

asked me to accompany them to the Protea Police

Station for questioning. I quickly recalled that one of

the issues that were frequently discussed in our

meetings was the importance of a warrant of arrest,

which they did not have. I therefore refused to

accompany them. They finally left, leaving me with my

bitterly shaken father. The old man was greatly

disappointed about my involvement in a matter that he

thought was totally beyond me. The whole debacle had

quickly turned me into a ‘terrorist’. ‘Se wenzene manje?’

(What have you done, now?) – My shaken old man kept on

asking me, over and over.

A few weeks following the police visit at my place,

they decided to be brave enough and drove their yellow

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VW Beetle into our school to arrest me. It was a slightly

warm Tuesday morning on 8 June 1976 when Mr

Molope, the headmaster, walked into my classroom

with a concerned look:

“There are two policemen in my office, a white and an

African policeman, they are looking for you.”

I promised to follow him immediately, requesting

for a few minutes to gather my books. On second

thoughts, I left my school bag in the classroom and

followed the principal to his office. As I walked into

the principal’s office, I found Stephanus Bekker and

another black policeman pacing around in the little

office. Bekker immediately instructed me to collect my

school bag from the classroom. Before going to the

classroom, I alerted Tseke Morathi and Tebello

Motapanyane about the presence of the policemen and

about their intention. Morathi and Motapanyane

quickly hatched a plan and told me to go back to

classroom and wait for ten minutes before going to the

principal’s office, where Bekker was anxiously waiting

for me. After ten minutes had lapsed, I walked out of

classroom and, suddenly, the school siren went off!

The whole school came out and almost all the students

shouted in one voice: ‘You are not going anywhere!’

“I briefly went into the principal’s office, where

Bekker was waiting for his intended prisoner. I

recognised the African policeman who was standing

outside the principal’s office as the same man who had

come with Bekker to arrest me at my home a few week

earlier. I entered the office and Bekker was excited to

see that his prisoner was ready to hand himself over.

His excitement was short-lived, though. As Bekker was

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saying his ‘goodbyes’ to Mr Molope, the African

policeman burst into the Principal’s office and told

Bekker the sad news. He informed his boss, ‘The yellow

VW Beetle has been overturned and it’s on fire.’

“Bekker ran for the telephone and called for

reinforcements from his bosses at the John Vorster

Square Police Station in the Johannesburg city centre.

In that panic and confusion, I saw an opportunity to

escape from the hands of the regime. Bekker had

totally forgotten about restraining his prisoner. The

space in the principal’s office became too small for the

four of all four of us: two panicking policemen, the

principal and myself. It was then that I realised that I

was a free man, and that I was definitely not Bekker’

prisoner anymore. As I was not handcuffed, I simply

said goodbye to Bekker and left the principal’s office.

“Bekker and his African colleague were totally

powerless and there was nothing they could do. As I

walked outside, the jubilant students were singing

Struggle songs and chanting political slogans. I was

lifted sky-high by my fellow students and I immediately

instructed that the phone line must be cut off. Even

though I was free, for a moment, a strange feeling had

engulfed me, and I felt as if I was entrapped in a

dungeon with the Apartheid regime.

“The next question that was asked by the now

triumphant crowd was how we would deal with Bekker

and his Black colleague. It was at that time that the

reinforcement that had been requested by Bekker

earlier had arrived, and positioned the ‘Sneeze

Machine’ directly in front of where we – the students

– were standing. There was commotion and confusion

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as the ‘Sneeze Machine’ was unleashed on us. More

police vehicles arrived as we ran away into the

township. Most of us had forgotten that there was a

second gate which we could have used for our escape

from the police.

“Some of the students jumped over the fence

behind the school as we thought it was a safer place

from where we could make our escape. With two

policemen nearly killed, I later realised the extent of yet

another problem. I wondered how I was going to

present the incident to my parents. Unaware at the

time, that my mother had already heard all about it at

Naledi Station on her way back from work. But she was

oblivious of the fact that it was her son who was at the

centre of the burnt police vehicle. During the day,

fellow student Frank Chikane had tracked me down to

warn me not to sleep at home that evening. Noting my

innocence and ignorance about going underground, he

pointed out the dangers to me in a very explicit manner

that made me understand that I had no choice but to

go underground.

“This was my first experience of life as a fugitive

within South Africa and later a refugee in a number of

neighbouring countries. When I arrived in the United

Kingdom in 1985, the British government gave me a

Passbook and immediately declared my nationality as

being ‘stateless’. It was for historical purposes that I

decided that I would take the British Passbook back to

Tanzania and, one day, back to South Africa as proof

that the British Government had discriminated against

us. The British authorities had instructed me in no

uncertain terms to leave the document with the British

Police when I left the country.

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I still have the document.

Torture at Protea Police Station

“After a few weeks of keeping a low profile after the

VW beetle police incident, on 14 June 1976, I took a

chance and visited my mother. Very much against her

will, as she was scared that the police would kill me.

This had proved to be a terrible mistake! In the early

hours of the morning, I heard my mother's voice

pleading: ‘Please don’t beat him and kill him.’ Before I

could understand what was going on, Bekker was

standing next to my bed. I was bundled into a police

van and driven to the Protea Police Station. The

experience of police brutality has always been

something that I had only read and heard about.

Things were about to take an agonising and ugly turn

with the now triumphant Stephanus Bekker.

On arrival at the police station, four huge Afrikaner

policemen were waiting for me. My training was such

that there was no way I was going to release any

information to the Apartheid regime. The first few

questions that I was asked had included why I had

burnt the police vehicle and why I had threatened to

kill the two policemen. Of course, my response was

that, when the car was burned, I was still in the

principal’s office. They also wanted the names of the

other leaders together with whom we were involved in

the Struggle. My answers were not what they were

looking for, and therefore they thought they could use

force to extract some information from me.

“My hands were handcuffed at the back and a

plastic bag was placed over my head. A broom stick

was placed over my back between my elbows. With my

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knees bent over another broomstick, I was lifted and

left to crush on the concrete floor, repeatedly. This was

a common form of torture by the South African Police,

and many of us still carry the scars in the form of

permanent back injuries. Seeing that the trick was not

delivering what they were expecting, the plastic bag

was removed from my head and I was blindfolded. A

certain object was placed behind my ears and a cloth

was pushed into my mouth. What followed was a

severe explosion in my body that had left me

breathless. My tongue was expanding, my cluttering

teeth were cutting my tongue, and blood was oozing

out of my mouth. As I was refusing to succumb to their

questioning, they resorted to even more brutal means

of torture. An empty oil barrel, which was filled with

water was brought in and two police officers grabbed

my neck and pushed my head into the barrel. My head

was submerged in the water, then pulled out, barely

giving me enough seconds to catch my breath. This

was repeated a few more times. Unable to breathe

while I was inhaling the water, I blacked out and woke

up hours later on the wet floor. The police officers had

realised that my injuries were severe and decided that I

must be taken to the Brixton Murder and Robbery

Squad in Brixton, Johannesburg to recover and not be

allowed to have visitors. I was locked in a solitary cell

and due to my injuries, I could not walk or crawl.

My first appearance in court was on 16 June 1976,

when Soweto was already on fire. Two days after my

appearance in court, Bekker instructed his security

police officers to bring me back to the Protea Police

Station for further questioning and torture. This time,

their questioning was focused around student leader

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Tsietsi Mashinini, and I told the police officers that I

did not know any Tsietsi Mashinini, and that I had

never met him. Indeed, I had never met Tsietsi

Mashinini; I had only heard of him while I was in jail

on the day of the march.

“Having recovered while I was at the Brixton

Murder and Robbery Squad, I appeared at Protea

Magistrate’s Court for the second time. This time

around, I was not alone; nine other people that I had

never met before, were appearing with me. After

appearing briefly, we were all charged with Public

Violence, and we were immediately taken to the Fort

Prison. Later on, I learnt that the other nine people

were innocent workers who were arrested while

returning from work on the day of the march. I realised

that the police had blundered by putting me together

with workers. Seeing an opportunity that had

presented itself so conveniently, I had then pretended

that I, too, had been arrested on the same day as the

workers. On our second appearance, all of us –

‘workers’ – were released because of lack of evidence.

“The situation outside was still very volatile and we

had to continue with the Struggle and the process of

building capacity within the Soweto Student

Representative Council, SSRC. We intensified the

boycott of classes and the writing of the Apartheid

exams. In one of the Apartheid Parliamentary sessions,

Mrs Helen Suzman posed a question to the Minister of

Police, Jimmy Kruger, about the youth who had started

all the trouble at Naledi High School on 8 June 1976.

In his response Jimmy Kruger simply said: ‘The youth

has been spirited away.’

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“The South African police never gave up on me.

They were relentless in tracking me down. On one

Saturday morning, they sent the notorious

‘Mathanzima Bantustan Police’ to my home, who

ransacked the house and left it in a shocking state. As

I was coming home to check on my mother, I found

her disturbed and terrified. She tried to stop me at the

gate so that I could not see the mess in the house. I

went in, briefly, and left immediately. The police also

used the local ‘Makgotla’ – vigilantes – who called

themselves ‘Amadoda Omuzi’, as informers. With this,

the Apartheid government had finally succeeded in

turning us against each other. And for this reason,

many lives were lost.

“It was after a year of being underground and on

the run that I had decided to cross the border to

Swaziland and into Mozambique and later proceeded

to Tanzania. On my return on Friday 30 November

1990, a convoy of taxis picked me up from the airport

to a waiting and jubilant group in Zola. The rest of my

life in exile and my return to South Africa will be told

in a different book. Celebrating fifty years of existence

of the school is an opportunity to entrench the legacy

of Naledi High School; to acclaim the milestones

which have been achieved by the school, teachers,

students, parents and the community of Naledi.

Standing here, on these historical grounds, and looking

at the Sports Complex Precinct, the Museum and the

Wall of Remembrance – which has been specially

teacher and students who lost their lives in a bus

disaster that had occurred in Mozambique –

entrenches the legacy of this superlative school.

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All these symbols are a stark reminder to the people of

South Africa that: Our struggle was not in vain!”

121


122


8

16th June 1976

“Looking back, my fate was politics. Many times, I kept asking

myself, ‘Am I supposed to be part of this?’ But, here I was, as a

classmate to Khotso Seatlholo, who was a bosom friend to my

cousin, Mzwakhe Matshobane, and who was very close to Tsietsi

Mashinini. Their Black Consciousness philosophy rubbed off me

and influenced me, greatly. I was touched by these people and

embroiled in the movement.” – Former Naledi High School

student Oupa Ngwenya.

M

y next interview brought me into contact

with another journalist, Oupa Ngwenya,

who was also a Naledi High School

alumnus. At the time of our chat, Ngwenya was the

stakeholder relations and communication manager at

the Mandela children’s Fund, while also working as

newspaper columnist and a social commentator. He is

well-known and much-loved for his artistic and poetic

skills with words. I was soon to find out that he was

also an eloquent storyteller and I became moved by his

profound wisdom, insight, humour and deep

compassion. The following, below is Ngwenya’s story:

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Meeting Khotso Seatlholo

“I came to Naledi High School in March 1976 after

I was expelled within two months of admission at

Ohlange High School in KwaZulu-Natal. The

expulsion had come about because of my disagreement

with the body master concerning the orientation of

newcomers, which was referred to as ‘treatment’. This

‘treatment’ was then regarded as a norm by some and

amusing by others, but I had found this whole

treatment as being savage and cruel. It had seemed

strange to me that the authorities would allow this to

happen. So I thought I should make them aware of the

situation. The body master did nothing about it, so I

reported him to the headmaster, Mr Ngcobo. I was

unaware that the headmaster, himself, had no power

over the body master and was fearful of him. ‘If you

step on the toes of the body master, it will be the end

of your journey at this school,’ the other students had

warned me. Indeed, soon thereafter, I was expelled.

“I now find myself back at home at Mofolo in

Soweto in the middle of the first school term. This was

not part of the plan, I keep thinking to myself, over and

over again. Desperate to find me a school, my uncle

recalled a neighbourhood friend who was a school

principal. After a long search, we finally traced him to

the local shebeen in White City Jabavu, Soweto. In

those days, shebeens were not just drinking places, but

places where intellectuals, leaders and journalists met

up for discussions and debates; a place where fierce

and real conversations took place. As it turns out, we

find not one, but two school principals at this shebeen,

Mr Mathabathe and Mr Molope.

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As I recollect the encounter with the principals, the

direction of the meeting takes the form of a bid at an

auction; the necessary conditions were very simple: I

listen to what each of them have to say about their

school, and I then make my choice between the two

schools.

“Mr Mathabathe is first to go: ‘Well, my school is

not very far from your home. You can actually walk.

The name is Morris Isaacson High School. The girls

wear colourful navy blue and yellow tunics and, may I

mention that they are beautiful! We start at seven and

finish at four.’

“Mr Molope is next with a counter-offer: ‘Mine is

very far from here, but you can travel by train. If you

catch the 06h30 train, you will be at school by 06h45,

just in time for the morning class. Even though the

tunics are not as colourful, black and white, the girls at

Naledi High School are equally beautiful! On Fridays,

once a month, the school hosts dialogues. These

sessions are a platform to interact with high profile

members of the community on stimulating, mindchallenging

topics. These take about two hours and are

held at the Naledi Community Hall, which is just

around the corner from the school.’

“Both their offers were only valid until the next day,

which had put me in a tight corner. I was told that I

needed to present myself at my choice of school the

following morning, forgetting that I was still awaiting

my luggage that was still in transit from Ohlange.

“The following morning, there I was, at Naledi

High School, looking and feeling very odd in my yellow

shirt and green trousers.

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Mr Molope found me waiting and allocated me a

class, looking clearly disappointed that I had missed the

morning class. In the classroom, I identified a vacant

two-seater desk at which I am later joined by another

student. Scared of the unknown and disappointed with

myself for the unanticipated change of plans, I say to

myself, ‘I am now in Soweto, when I was supposed to

be in Ohlange, KwaZulu-Natal.’ The thought kept

coming back to my mind. My desk mate turns out to

be a warm welcoming friendly boy by the name of

Sidney Seatlholo.

“Our strange, round-about introduction went in the

following manner:

‘Ke tla re ngwenya ke mang?” (Whom do we call you,

mate?) – Asks Sidney.

‘Ke Ngwenya!’ (I am Ngwenya!) – I respond.

Thinking that I am pulling his leg, he tries again.

‘I am serious, Monna; ngwenya ke mang?’

‘Ke Ngwenya!’ I respond, once again.

We went on around this dance around the moniker

– ‘ngwenya’ – which was also the local honorary

salutation, and – ‘Ngwenya’ – being my surname; until

he realised that I was, indeed, Ngwenya! We finally

agreed that I would, from then onwards, be referred to

as ‘Ngwenya-Ngwenya!’ That is how I got to be known

as ‘Ngwenya–Ngwenya’. This had then kick-started

our friendship on a good note. Sidney Seatlholo, who

would be known later as Khotso, was very receptive

and went out of his way to make me feel comfortable.

“He orientated me during the lunch breaks, and

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showed me places where I could buy tasty, economic

meals, as well as giving me the Animal Farm set work

so as not to make feel out of place. Being preoccupied

with my unprecedented schooling arrangement,

farmyard fantasy was exactly what I needed to take my

mind off things.

“The Students Christian Movement, SCM was very

popular, although Seatlholo did not belong to the

movement himself. Seatlholo was very articulate and I

was soon to discover that he was also held in high

esteem by the student leadership in the school. On

occasion, he would be allocated time to address the

students, like it would be the case for a motivational

speaker.

“The Friday following the Wednesday that I had

started the school was the Dialogue Friday and

Seatlholo was asked to give a vote of thanks. The

subject was ‘Education Is Not an Empty Box’.

Seatlholo’s remarks alluded to the fact that some of

the teachers were worse than mechanics, and that some

mechanics would make better teachers than most of

the teachers in the school. One of the teachers took the

remark personally, got offended and walked out.

Immediately, my mind took me back to Ohlange High

School, and to my encounter with the body master. As

a student who had merely objected to the injustice of

bullying, my voice had been silenced to extinction. But,

here – at Naledi High School – the students had a

voice! The discussions proved not to be easily sidetracked

into rabbit trails; time and timing were of

essence.

“Essentially, the dialogues created an opportunity

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to interrogate the reality of our political system;

provoked and inpired us to desire to seek more

knowledge and insight; and created a platform to tackle

tough challenges and enriched relationships with our

teachers, regular speakers and fellow students.

“Looking back, my fate was politics. Many times, I

kept asking myself, ‘Am I supposed to be part of this?’

But, here I was, as a classmate to Khotso Seatlholo,

who was a bosom friend to my cousin, Mzwakhe

Matshobane, and who was very close to Tsietsi

Mashinini. Their Black Consciousness philosophy

rubbed off me and influenced me, greatly. I was

touched by these people and embroiled in the

movement.

Collective Student Leadership

“The other student I got to know was Enos

Ngutshane. I had found him to have a rare

combination of a great sense of humour, a good

command of the English language and a sense of

commitment to the cause of justice. With interests that

covered all areas of life, he was an active member of

the Student Christian Movement, SCM, Teen

Outreach Youth Club and the South African Students

Movement, SASM; a truly well-rounded and wellgrounded

student. The second day at Naledi High

School brought me into contact with another student

who left a long-lasting impression on me. I had missed

my train and arrived late for school and, of course, the

gates were closed. The student in question, Popo

Molefe, who was serving as the head prefect, was

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managing the gate and I had to plead my case and get

my punishment of picking up the papers before going

to class. Molefe demonstrated a highly developed

intellect and excellent leadership qualities. Being

around him, one had an understanding that he was

being trained to think, and that he was destined to lead;

carrying himself well as the head prefect. By the third

day, my impression of the school had changed. It was

a school filled with rich quality students and a good

sense of collective leadership.

“But there was the other side of Naledi High School

that was still to be revealed to me; a much darker side.

A scuffle broke out between two students during lunch

break and there was no intervention from the teachers.

I later learned that it was Joe who started the fight. Joe

was a fierce character, and was feared by all; the

residents, school management and the police. Like me,

Joe travelled by train and was the master of the

notorious ‘Dumane’ coach, which was usually the last

coach at the back of the train. On this particular

morning, I got to know that, not only was there good

leadership and quality teachers in the school, but that

there was also a sense of security. And, for as long as I

was in my school uniform, no thugs could touch me;

otherwise, they would have to deal with the

untouchable Joe from Naledi High School.

“Amongst other prominent students, there was also

David Kutumela. Kutumela played an ambassadorial

role between schools and political organisations, and

of refocusing the direction of the different movements.

By this time, I was beginning to sense that something

was going on, but I did not have my finger firmly on it,

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just yet. But I knew that something was definitely going

on.

“Then there was Vincent Kgase, the scientist; wellknown

for applying scientific theories to daily life

situations. Kgase would always throw in a theory or

two in any discussion; words like momentum, motion,

velocity, actions and reactions, which were quite

fashionable words at the time. ‘Guys, please consider

the consequences of your actions; allow for the whole

thing to gain momentum,’ he would caution as

strategies were being planned. Even on the critical day,

8 June 1976, when police had come to arrest

Ngutshane, Kgase had summoned us in his usual

scientific flair: ‘Guys, there is some action that is taking

place at the principal’s office and it requires our

reaction.’

“Outside of school, my evening meetings at the

shebeen were beginning to take a serious shape. Now

a fully-fledged member of the inner circle of my elders,

including school principals, and our relationship had to

be redefined, albeit bordered with great respect. These

meetings exposed me to intellectual reasoning, debates,

the mobilisation of activities and the different

strategies of engaging the department of education. I

marveled at these discussions and gained an insight of

the underground planning that was going on. Belle

Primary School in Orlando West was the meeting

place. It is for this reason that Reverend Chikane used

to refer to the school principals as the ‘MKs’ of the

education system.

“Seatlholo, on the other hand, had now taken me

up as his protégé; taking trouble to explain politics to

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me, on a deeper level. ‘Ngwenya, you have to realise

that this is not just about Afrikaans, but the system,’

Seatlholo would say, persuading me to show up and be

part of the political conversation. He would also,

painstakingly point out, ‘It is about the ‘Blackjacks’,

South African Police in their blue uniforms, the police

vehicles and the laws of restrictions.’

“My activities and services as club secretary at the

local soccer club were beginning to feel like a waste of

time and lacked focus. ‘Ngwenya, do not be like bo-Dr

Motlana,’ Seatlholo would also advise, with great care.

‘You can never understand whether he is a doctor,

businessman or politician. Stick to the cause, Ngwenya;

where your expertise are needed.’

“Little did he understand that soccer would be

something like therapy to me, during the unrest and be

a place of refuge whenever I was being hunted by the

police. By June 1976, it had become a crime to be a

student in Soweto and we were fugitives in our own

country. Of course, we always found ways to slip away

from the police. On one occasion, they found us in

White City Jabavu. Fortunately, we were alert and saw

them first. We decided not to run away but remain still

in darkness without a single movement for about four

hours, with an entourage of police cars outside.

“Amongst us was Oupa Mlangeni, who believed in

traditional medicine. He claimed that what had saved

us from the police was the root that he always carried

in his pocket. Of course, this made for humorous

debate as we took this issue back to Vincent Kgase, the

scientist; who had dismissed Mlangeni’s notion as

being ignorance

131


“Fate positioned and cushioned me well, in terms

of leadership, grooming and mentorship. At night, the

shebeen was my university of life and, during the day,

it was school with Seatlholo as my mentor. After every

meeting, Seatlholo would put all his energy in

leadership and topical discussions, analysing the

strengths of the leaders concerned and outcomes of

meetings, making a ‘SWOT’ analysis, so to speak.

“It had later dawned upon me that Seatlholo was, in

effect, trying to coax me into leadership and

commitment, reminding me that I, too, had it in me to

lead. In essence, our conversations were not about

leadership; but our conversations were really the

essence of leadership.

“The figures that often stood out during our oneon-one

reviews were Ngutshane, Kutumela and Mr

Molope, the headmaster, who was also a traditionalist

who did not welcome the disruption that Afrikaans had

brought to the education system. Mr Molope – even

though an activist, himself – was orderly and insisted

on being informed on all the activities. Of course, not

every student was politically-inclined. There were

people like Oupa Manzana, from Mofolo, the opposite

Vukayibambe School, who used to utilise the free time

that came with the frequent planning meetings to host

parties, which were known as ‘Nkwaris’. Mr Molope

was aware of Manzana’s shenanigans and did not

approve. And he used reprimand us, ‘Guys, please let

me know where you are and what you are doing; I do

not want to find myself surprised by the likes of

Manzana in my office, demanding, ‘Sir, I want

freedom’; not having a clue about politics except,

Nkwaris.’

132


“I was subsequently refused readmission to Naledi

High School after the schools had reopened after the

uprising, being labelled as an ‘undesirable element’.

Desperate to continue with my education, I had to look

for alternative ways and – together with Benjamin

Motaung, (Isaac Motaung’s younger brother) –I

managed to study for the equivalent of what was then

the Junior Certificate through the London College.

“Afrikaans as a form of teaching was the spark that

fueled the revolution. It was the most oppressive form

of alienating the people. Prior to this, the winds of

change had been blowing for some time in the

continent, as East and North Africa were getting free.

These winds of change were touching us, as well. As

the spirit of freedom was sweeping our continent,

people were realising that they were not stationary

recipients of this freedom, and that they needed to

work for it.

“When the South African Student Organization,

SASO was formed in 1968, it was the beginning of

what I call the Renaissance; the beginning of defiance.

And an awakening for both spiritual discovery and selfdiscovery.

The Black Consciousness Movement –

together with Christian movements like the Students

Christian Movement, SCM – propelled us to start

asking: ‘What kind of God do we have in the world

who would allow others to subjugate others like this?’

“We got to understand that what we were

experiencing, as Africans, was not what God had

intended for us, as part of his creation. This is where

liberation theology had come in.

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Hence the song, ‘Senzeni Na?’ (What have we done,

wrong?)

“Under the leadership of people like Ngutshane, we

realised that, for us to be liberated politically, we had

to be liberated, spiritually; to understand ourselves as

part of God’s creation, and not to accept the perverted

Christianity that was sold to us by the colonial

Christians. The policy manifesto of the South African

Student Organization, SASO was to ensure that South

Africa became a country in which both black and white

live peacefully, and would continue to do so.

June 16 th , the day itself was ordinarily innocent.

“On this day, no one had thought they encounter

obstacles going back home after school or report back

any tragic stories. Students from various schools had a

plan to make the announcement after assembly about

the plans for the day, and synchronise a plan to follow

the route to converge at Orlando West and cross over

the railway bridge, and then proceeded to Orlando

Stadium. This, with the intention of handing over the

memorandum to the authorities; with the hope that it

would be responded to and whatever was

disconcerting us would be resolved. We would then

return home to our families and life would go on. But

it was not to be!

“What kind of system would construe someone as

being a criminal for merely picking up a mortallywounded

teenaged child and attempting to rush him to

receive emergency medical help; and label the

compassionate act as a political act, which was worthy

of prosecution? This was Mbuyiseni Makhubo’s crime

to the authorities.

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When the person next to you has been shot, the

natural reaction would be to attend to them and seek

medical attention. But, instead of seeing this as an act

of emergency, they see it as a political act of terror.

Makhubo had no idea of the dramatic events that

would follow after had picked up a wounded Hector

Pietersen. The mind of a person who views this

compassionate act, makes you wonder, ‘What kind of

human beings are these?’ And, ‘What kind of system

politically-misconstrues this kindhearted action as an

act of terror? And going on, to prevent a young child

that is wounded from getting help? And also harassing

the person that had mercifully picked him up. Sophie

Tema was the journalist who was covering the event at

the time; and so was Sam Nzima, the photo journalist

who took the now famous picture of Makhubu

carrying the stricken teenager to safety and direlyneeded

medical attention. This is how the world got to

know what was truly happening in this country. This

illustrates the fact that truth, when exposed, gives

people enlightenment and the courage to take action.

The amount of exposure that the 16 th of June, 1976

movement had enlisted was triggered by this powerful

picture – showing the vital role of media. I am not sure

if Sophie Tema and Sam Nzima were consciouslycommunicating

with the world. They were simply

journalists doing their job, and going back to the news

room to report on a story.

I had then asked Ngwenya this pertinent question:

“The book is about personal testimonies; and you seem

to have spent a lot of time with Seatlholo at school; did

you manage to keep in contact with him after the

uprising?”

135


And this was his somber response: “He went into

exile, as you know. Him and Tsietsi Mashinini were

very good friends in exile. Of course, when Mashinini

got married, their friendship took the back burner.

These were two different characters, yet good friends.

Mashinini was more of an intellectual, and charismatic

leader who believed in dialogues. Seatlholo – on the

other hand, and just like Kgase – was a militant person.

Seatlholo obtained a degree while he was in exile; but

he also took up arms, as he was adamant that you

cannot fight guns with stones. Coming back from exile,

he worked at Perm Bank and experienced the same

injustice of pre-1976; which was only packaged

differently, this time. Subsequently, he left the bank.

He became withdrawn and depressed. Disheartened by

the injustices that were still present, the political

infighting and the fact that we were too relaxed on the

basis of the new dispensation.”

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9

Governance And

Guidance

The School Governing Body

“Our schools must be safe environments for the learners, and

the learners’ needs must be prioritised. The state of our school

buildings and infrastructure, such as learner toilets, are vital

societal building blocks that must be nurtured. A clean girls’

toilet lends credence and meaning to feminine hygiene. A clean

and safe environment will ensure that our children stay in

class, and they stay even longer for extra mural activities.” –

Former Naledi High School student Oupa

Molapisi.

A

s I work on this chapter of the book, it is

September, which is Heritage Month in

South Africa. This year, the theme centres on

honouring our heroes and heroines. As I am

thinking to myself about this, my attention is drawn

to a newspaper article, which was saying the

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following, in part: “We now have a democratic government.

Simply put, the role of former liberation stalwarts was not only

to establish a democratic government, but to create an enabling

environment for all people to enjoy freedom.” – Sandile

Memela City Press Voices, 23 September 2012.

On this day, I am having a conversation with one

such hero, Oupa Molapisi, who is a former Naledi

High School student. Molapisi does not waste time

reminiscing about that era in his life. After a brief

exchange of pleasantries, he gets straight to the point

of the discussion.

“My concern is that our education system is not

addressing the economy of the country.” So, begins

my conversation with Oupa. “Industrialisation is

changing the dynamics of the economy and the

education system must support the related process

of job-creation. In moving towards increasing the

economic split of sixty percent (60%) for

industrialisation and forty percent (40%) for

agriculture concerning the level of the developed

countries, our education system must not be left

lagging behind. Artisanship as part of the curriculum

and must be brought back and reinforced so that it

can address the lack of skilled workers. South Africa

has a pronounced dearth of skilled artisans, such as

plumbers, electricians, and the lot. Therefore, the

establishment of technical schools needs to be

prioritised by those who have the power to this

happening, without delay, in the country.

“The nature of democracy should be such that it

creates a new society with new value systems, and

parents need to be equipped with the necessary skills

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to manage the new products of a democratic

dispensation. To aid this process, we must retain

some of our cultural and traditional values as they

have been tried and tested by time. Some of the

traditions that may be less relevant have to be

excised from society. This should be achieved

through negotiated processes and empowerment

training. Society also has a responsibility in assisting

the government to ensure that our schools produce

well-rounded human beings. Active parental

involvement in school governance, especially in

supporting those that we have elected, and even in

holding them accountable. As well as empowering

parents about their rights, their understanding of the

Constitution and what it says about education and

the resources that are available.

“Our schools must be safe environments for the

learners, and the learners’ needs must be prioritised.

The state of our school buildings and other crucial

infrastructural parts, such as the learners’ toilets are

also among the vital societal building blocks that

must be nurtured. A clean girls’ toilet lends credence

and meaning to feminine hygiene. A clean and safe

environment will also ensure that our children stay

in class and even stay longer on the schools’ grounds

for extramural activities. Regarding parental

involvement in the student’s schooling lives,

Molapisi opened by saying, “Naledi High School was

founded on a committed governing body of parents.

Notably, Mrs Thusi and Ms Keneilwe Losaba have

been dedicated members of the School Governing

Body. This has enabled the headmaster and his team

of educators to attain the great matric results all

along, and I commend the parents on being the

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supportive and proactive type of parents that their

children had always needed.

“In 2013, I was invited to the launch of the South

African Human Rights Commission’s (SAHRC’s)

Charter of Children’s Basic Education Rights at the

commission’s head office in Braamfontein,

Johannesburg. “The SAHRC’s constitutional mandate is

to monitor the realisation of the right to basic education in

South Africa,” said Commissioner Lindiwe Mokate in

the foreword leading to the charter launch: “The

charter provides a guideline of what the children, their parents

and other caregivers should expect from the education system.

It also informs and educates the parents of the role they are

required to play in order to enable (the) children to enjoy their

right(s) to basic education.”

This quote was also echoing Molapisi’s

sentiments about creating a safe and clean school

environment for our children.

“The subject of land is another good parallel to

refer to, for us to appreciate education as a means to

restoration. Reference to agriculture connects one

directly to the 1913 Apartheid-inspired Land Act

and all that it had entailed in its wider ramifications

to the African people. From African communities

who are engaged in humble communal crop and

stock farming, to the commercial farmers that are

using sophisticated modern farming techniques. For

these communities, farming was also a symbol of

economic status, such as the number of cattle one

owned and the kind of currency one possessed.”

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Molapisi concluded with a heavy heart, “So, the

Land Act of June 1913 robbed the indigenous

communities of their wealth and currency.”

Concludes Oupa with a heavy heart.

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Life Skills

“My intention with my book, Rising above the Ordinary, is

to guide the graduates in their journey; and to map out a plan

that makes it realistic for that graduate to achieve greater

heights in today’s demanding life.” – former Naledi High

School student Lucky Ganzin.

T

he Ganzin family name is synonymous with

Naledi High School, and is best known for

its legacy of order, diligence, intelligence and

good genes, among other good things. My personal

interaction with the Ganzin family was made

through Peter Ganzin at primary school. Even at a

tender age, Peter Ganzin had carried himself in a

manner that showed that he took his life seriously as

a studious and well-groomed student.

In the later years, the family reemerged in my

radar through Gift Ganzin, the third generation of

the family and a former Naledi High School student

in the eighties. Gift Ganzin is a feisty committed,

member of the organising committee for the 50 th

anniversary event. She has been tasked to produce a

documentary on the heritage of the school. She has

also been actively involved with the school since the

inception of the heritage committee’s work. So it is

through my interaction with Gift that I was able to

meet and chat with Lucky Ganzin.

Lucky Ganzin began his studies at Naledi High

School from 1974 to 1977 when schooling was

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disrupted in the wake of the June 1976 uprising. He

was one of the two students who obtained a

distinction pass in the then Junior Certificate, JC

level examinations (the JC level is known today as

Grade 10).

He went on to complete his matric at Mamathe

High School, in Teyateyaneng, Lesotho, where he

was the first student to obtain a first class pass in the

history of the school. He obtained his BSc in Physics

and Mathematics at the National University of

Lesotho, NUL. He got a scholarship to study for a

BSc degree in Mechanical Engineering at Marquette

University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the United

States of America, US. He further obtained his

Masters qualification in Business Administration

(MBA) at the Gordon Institute of Business Science,

GIBS which is accredited by the University of

Pretoria. It is against this impressive academic

background that Lucky Ganzin came to the

realisation that life is full of uncertainties after he

landed on his first job as an engineer. Quickly, he

had to learn and face some realities about life; and

this had included the facts that life does not owe you

anything; but that you have to make it work for

yourself; and also that:

The world does not care about your self-esteem,

but expects you to accomplish something before you

feel good about yourself;

• You will not be a chief executive officer,

CEO with a flashy car and a jazzy wardrobe

until you earn the right and means to own

these trappings;

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• Making photocopies is not beneath your

dignity, but an opportunity to start from the

bottom;

• If you mess up, it is no one’s fault; so you

cannot whine, and you should learn to face

the consequences;

• Your school may have given you as many

chances as you wanted to get the right

answer, yet it is not so in real life.

• Life is not divided into terms; you do not get

summers or winters off, and very few

employers are interested in helping you to

really find yourself;

• Television is not reality. In real life, people

have to leave the coffee shop and go and

earn a living;

• The very people you may be undermining in

your class are the ones that you might end up

working for.

This whole experience brought Lucky Ganzin

back to the lessons he had learnt from his mentor,

Peter Ganzin. And he speaks highly and with great

admiration about his elder brother, Peter. In his

younger brother, Peter Ganzin has seemingly

instilled a spirit of dedication and hard work. This

also includes virtues such as leadership and

mentoring, largely through the influence and the

modelling of a purposeful life. Coincidentally,

another Naledi High School alumni Oupa Ngwenya

refers to this as peer mentorship, which he says

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remains the legacy for which Naledi High is well

known. And that this is the heritage that the alumni

is hoping to preserve and pass on to the current crop

of the school’s students as the school celebrates its

fiftieth anniversary.

The politics of 1976 forced Lucky Ganzin to rise

above the mentioned considerations and realities, to

have a personal agenda.

Then we got to the point of touching on his

book, “My intention with my book, Rising above the

Ordinary, seeks to guide the graduates in their

journey; and to map out a plan that makes it realistic

for that graduate to achieve greater heights in today’s

demanding life.

“One of the popular talks from circles of those

who are in the know is that you must have an exit

strategy. Exit from what? For me, one should have

an entrance strategy. As you grow in your career, you

will notice that every aspect of life has its own inner

circles. You have to be able to build your inner circle

without selling your soul, just for the sake of

belonging.

“The road towards creating our own inner circle

starts with a personal agenda, a strategic plan you

should be devising every year. No. I am not talking

about New Year’s resolutions, or all that similar

stuff. I am talking about a quiet time, during which

you would be able to reflect on things that are

personal.

The disruption of the education system created a

desire for the students of the 1976 era to want to

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achieve and be educated. For them to come out of

school without a matric certificate was something

that they viewed as a hindrance to escaping the

entrapments of Apartheid. Most of the stalwarts

went into exile or to jail at a young age. These

negative circumstances were used to the benefit of

the advancement of their lives.”

As we wrap up, he says, “The circumstances

instilled in them are values that are a common trait

in their lives, hence the quality of leadership that

Naledi High School has produced.”

146


147

June

10

1976 Commemorative Dialogue

The human Story

“Not everybody had political inclinations. Often, the parents,

children and siblings did not see eye to eye. The propaganda news

did not make the situation any better. So, as the township

buildings were burning down, in some families, relationships were

burning down, as well.” – Compiler Eunice Rakhale-Molefe

F

or me, Wednesday 16 June 1976 was just

another working day. I woke up very early in the

morning to catch my lift club car, leaving my

elder sister, Monki and my late younger brother, Enoch

at home, knowing that they would be going to school

later. I was working as a tea girl at Coleman’s Diesel,

an engineering company in Johannesburg. Having

completed matric in 1976, I had to find work to help

my parents to put food on the table; as was the case

with many of our generation at the time. As I did not

fit completely to this tea girl title, my bosses, out of

guilt – I think – would – now and then – bring some

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work to the kitchen to relieve the office load. Inbetween

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 wellgroomed,

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

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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


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 16 th 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

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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

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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 fouryear-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

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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

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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 8 th of June in 2013, Naledi High School,

one of the nine Heritage Schools in Soweto,

celebrated its 50 th 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.

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On 13 th 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 16 th 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…

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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 8 th

June 2013 gave the school an opportunity to

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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

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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 14 th 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

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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 13 th of June in 2014 at the

DOCC in Orlando, Soweto. On the 8 th 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

50 th 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.

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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.

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