Human Rights Violation Hearings — Winelands — 1996-10-16

CASE NO: CT/

<UNKNOWN>: CONSCRIPTION/DEATH  (1986)

MS GOBODO: Audience this morning we have provided the necessary assistance that we give for all our witnesses.  Viola Lengner is going to be Ann-Marie's briefer and she is sitting next to her.  I will read Ann-Marie's statement and I will also read  a statement written by  Owen McGregor -  Ann-Marie's son.
My son was born on the 31st January 1967.  He was 19 years old when he was called up in January 1986.  He returned on leave from his basic training in Kroonstad, and spent some time at home.
He was called  again on the 1st   November 1986.  At the time of this call he had spent ten  days in Tygerberg Hospital  and was recovering from a swollen arm, which we were told was caused by a blood clot in a vein that was to close to the ribs.
I didn't know much about what would happen to him, or  what he would do in the army.   We had come to accept  that it is the law.  Your children get called up for two years  and that's it.  You don't question  that  but accept it as the law.
I had three  boys and it made me feel  sad to have my children taken away like that and being kept in the dark about what exactly was involved  in the call-up - what they were going to do.  But as I said you never ask questions,  it was the law - that was that.
On the day I accompanied Wallace to be taken  away, my heart was very sore.  He carried only a few basic things  with him in a small bag.  It was strange to see him go like that.  In fact the whole thing seemed odd.
Your child gets a letter telling him to be at such and such a place. Then you accompany him and watch him being loaded with others in a truck, almost like sheep.  
I could feel that Wallace was a little sad on the day he was taken away.  In retrospect  it is as if  he knew what was going to happen to him.  Wallace was a very strong child, very  disciplined, good in sports and he was a perfectionist.  I never thought in the world that he would be taken away from me forever, never.
You know there are certain things you take for granted about  your children.  Life is one of them.  So that when you pray for them, you just pray for there health and well being.
If I thought there was the remotes chance that I might loose him, I would have prayed for his  life,  prayed to the Lord to spare his life. One thing that struck me about the day I saw him off is how insecure  he seemed.  I remember that I wanted to go and buy some cooldrinks for us, and he said, but mommy you can't leave me alone here.  That surprised me, and it was very unchariteristic of him.  But now I think he felt the sense of  impending danger. A kind of premonition.
Had I been aware of that danger,  I would have made more of the good-byes I shared with my son.  If I knew he was going to fight in a war, I would have held him closer to me.  And held him up in my prayers.
You see all we were told is that our children are going in the border, which meant guarding the South African boarders. I didn't know that my son would be fighting in another country, across the border.  Which is were his life was taken away.  We were conditioned that there was this war.  But somehow I didn't think that my son would be put in the thick of it.
In his letters it was not clear either, he wrote to tell me that things were OK, and I accepted  that.
Two days before I heard about Wallace's death, on a Tuesday, I received an exciting  letter from him, telling me about his plans for the break he was going to get from the army.
And then on Thursday, March 9th ,  I was confronted  with the total shock of the news of his death.  I was told that my son was killed a few kilometers off Oshakati.  He was brought home wrapped in a thick sealed plastic bag.   The instructions  was that the plastic bag should not be opened.  The only thing I know about the state my son was in,  is that all his limps were in tact.  And this I heard from his uncle, who could only establish this  by running his hands over his plastic bag.
Again I accepted this as Military law.  You are not allowed to have the last glimpse of your own child.  Even as he laid there, lifeless.  On the day of Wallace's funeral, his coffin wasn't opened.  It is ten years since I last laid eyes on my child.  Nine years since he was laid to rest.  But in this nine years  I've been struggling to complete the process of mourning  for Wallace.
A part of me wanders if in fact it was him in that plastic bag.  How can I lay him to rest within my heart if I didn't see him go.  When I lost my mother,  whom I loved very much,   I saw her, I touched her and therefore I was able to separate from her, release her and move on.
But with Wallace there are so many question that are still unanswered.  In my struggle with my grief,  I would like to know were exactly he died.  How it had happened.  Who was there with him when it happened.  Did anybody help him to prevent it from happening.  Who was the doctor who attended to him.  I've never had the opportunity to ask these questions.  Nobody has ever explained anything to me about my son's death.
They can say nobody asked,  but who do you ask.  And even if you do,  you will not get any answers.
I sometimes see Wallace in the streets.  I remember two distinct occasions  when I though I was seeing him.  And it turned out to be somebody who looked like him.  My grief becomes more intense on the anniversaries of my sons death and on his birthday.  He would have turned thirty in January.  I've kept an album of all his photographs as a way of dealing with the many feelings I have about the loss.   But it is very hard, when there are so many things you are not sure about.