Special Hearings — Women's Hearings — 1997-07-28

CHAIRPERSON: We call the next witness, Thandi Shezi.  Gcina.

MS MHLOPE: I will do two poems.  A poem that comes from a time when I was in struggling to make sense of what was happening around me and also to try understand where my mother was coming from.
 So I'll do that one and also I'll do a poem that is more recent;  that is looking at situations that we are experiencing now also.
"Where do they come from, Tell me, tell me, where do they come from.  Tales so brave, tales so strong, Tell me, where do they come from, Tales so brave, tales so strong. Some are so funny, so crazy, unbelievable,  some are so funny, so crazy, unbelievable. They come from the bones of memory.  Watch my eyes, hear my voice, I tell you true.  These tales are from the bones of memory. These tales yare from the bones of memory, of memory, of memory, of memory, from the bones of memory, from the bones of memory, from the bones of memory, from the bones of memory.
This is the wedding dancer;  and my mother did not like the fact that I ended up in show business.  And she was very well known when she grew up in a place called Mount Frere, Umchazie and she used to dance in weddings.
 And many people think there's a lot of my mother in me and the more I think about it, the more I realise indeed there's a lot of my mother in me. But when I was writing this poem, there were not a lot of situations to look at that reminded you of the times that my mother was happy and dancing and well-known and doing what she was really good at and loving.
 So, this is the Wedding Dancer.
MS MHLOPE SINGS POEM
"Mama, they tell me you were a dancer They tell me you had long, beautiful legs to carry your graceful body. They tell me you were a dancer."
MS MHLOPE SINGS POEM
Mama, they tell me you sang beautiful solos.  They tell me you smiled and closed your eyes.  Always when the feeling of the song was right, they tell me you smiled and lifted your face up to the sky."
MS MHLOPE SINGS POEM
"Mama, they tell me you were always so gentle. They talk of a willow tree, swaying lovingly over clear, running water in early spring.  When they talk of you they tell my you were a slow dancer."
MRS MHLOPE SINGS POEM
"Mama, they tell me you were a wedding dancer.  They tell me you smiled, lifted your face up to the sky with your arms curving outward just a little, and your smile, your feet shuffling in the sand -tche tche tche tche tche."
MS MHLOPE SINGS POEM
"Mama, how I wish I was there to see you.  They tell me you were a pleasure to watch. Mama, they tell me I'm a dancer too, but I don't know - I don't know for sure what a wedding dancer is. There are no more weddings, but many, many funerals, where we sing and dance, running fast with the coffin of a would-be-bride or a would-be-groom.
 Strange smiles have replaced our tears. Our eyes are full of vengeance, 
 Mama, dear, dear Mama, they tell me I am a funeral dancer.
 This poem is called a Leader Remember.  I talk about the bones of memory, because this is the era of the story- teller.  Lovely stories, painful stories, there are funny stories, all kinds of stories.  
 This is the time of the story-teller and every single person in this room has got a story to tell and more must be told.
 This says Leader Remember.
"Leader Remember the time you spent fighting for your freedom and that of your people.  The time you played hide and go seek with you oppressor men
 Till they caught you at last
 Put you in chains and lead irons
 Threw you in jail
 Believing in his heart, that you'll never again see the light of day
 Leader Remember how strongly you fought your freedom-loving spirit kicking hard and refusing to die.  Your vision for a better day, giving you power and endurance immeasurable.
 In that cruel torture chamber, while your body lay on the cold cement floor your spirit escaped through the window, and went to mingle with other spirits of countless freedom fighters deep in Africa's Rain Forests.  Where the equatorial moisture whispered that timeless message.  All freedom fighters know.  Don't give up, don't give up.
 Here, take with you love, self-respect, selflessness.  Fight for your people
 Leader Remember the day you walked out. The very minute, the very second as your right foot stepped outside outside the gates of that jail, feasting the air, sun in your face. The joy that washed over you like bucketfuls of honey. The pain that touched your soul like a poisoned arrow of wasted years and potential. At the same time, you eagerly greeted the mammoth task that lay ahead. You vowed and promised to do all in your power to build a better future for you and your people.
 Leader Remember the long suffering women and men, the dignity they lost;  think of the very young and the very old; the hunger they learned to live with in the land of plenty.
 Leader Remember, the promises you made. The hope you represent, Leader remember. You now stand at history's cross roads, compass in hand, the walking stick of your people's experiences, helping you feel for the potholes as you lead the way, Leader Remember.  Corruption and lies will no doubt double the pain they once knew, Leader Remember. Betrayal hurts much more than the sting of a million scorpions. Leader Remember
 We wish you peace in your heart.
 We wish the eagle's sharp vision.  We wish you the ancient African tortoises's wisdom. We wish you the mighty elephant's memory
 So Leader Remember. The mystic equatorial moisture whispering that timeless message all freedom fighters know. Don't give up, don't give up. Here, take with you love, self-respect, selflessness.  Fight for your people.  The fight is never over, Leader Remember."
(Applause).

CHAIRPERSON: Thank you Gcina.
 I think that poems that you've given us today, certainly touch on the very many sensitive subjects.  You talk about our relationships with our mother and we're really very grateful to have had you here today.
 We are grateful for whatever it is in our culture that has produced someone like you so that we can talk about our pain, share our laughter and our sadness as well.  I thank you very, very much for sharing this morning with us.  Thank you.
(Applause).
 I would now like to call Thandi Shezi to the witness stand please.  I would ask people in the audience who have cell phones to please keep them switched off.  It's not very comfortable for the witnesses, in fact, to have the ringing of the cell-phone in the background.  This is a moment for the witness to tell their story, and we'd ask you to respect that as well.
 Thank you Gcina for being with us.
 Mama, thank you for coming today.  We know that it takes incredible courage to come and speak and tell us your story in front of all these people.  But it's important for other people to hear of your suffering.
 I have asked Joyce Seroke to assist you with the telling of your story.  Joyce.

MS SEROKE: Thandi Shezi, may you please stand up so you can take an oath.

THANDI SHEZI: (Duly sworn, states).

MS SEROKE: May you please inform us who's the lady accompanying you, sitting right next to you?

THANDI SHEZI: This is my aunt.

MS SEROKE: We welcome you here.  We thank you very much for accompanying Thandi so that she can come and relate her story.
 Thandi, you are coming to relate to us about September 1988.  Just in brief, if you can tell us, what happened up until when you were detained and you ended up in jail.