Human Rights Violation Hearings — Durban — 1996-08-30

COMMISSIONER: Their depression lifted to some extent when, several months later, we received a secret note from my brother.  It was brought by a friend who had visited Swaziland.  My brother wanted us to meet him in a secret venue in Swaziland.  My parents could not contain their excitement.  Despite our financial predicament my parents bought various items of clothing for him.  They prepared excellent food dishes to take to him.  The secret venue that we met was on the side of the road.  I think it was near a hotel in Swaziland.  But we had to wait for darkness before he arrived.  He was too scared to meet us during the day, and he never showed us where he lived in Swaziland.  In fact he stayed with us for those few days at the Timbali Caravan Park, which is a holiday resort in Swaziland.  When he jumped off the car my parents ran towards him and hugged him, shedding tears of joy at this temporary reunion.  The few days we spent in Swaziland were the happiest days of my parents' lives.

COMMISSIONER: We met in this clandestine fashion a few times between 1978 and 1981.  In this period Security Branch Police would often come home and harass my family, especially my mother, who was alone while the rest of us had gone to work.  They would want to know if we had received any communications from my brother.  This was a traumatic period for all of us, especially my mother.  It was obvious that the police were keeping tabs on all of us.  For instance, in January 1981 we made another trip to Swaziland to see my brother.  The officials at the border post gave us a torrid time.  They demanded to know why we were going to Swaziland.  They refused to believe that we were going on holiday.  They turned us back, saying that my son, who was two years old at the time, did not have a passport.  When my brother and I pleaded with them, saying that my son was a mere child who could not do anything wrong in Swaziland, they became abusive.  One of the chaps threatened my younger brother.  So we were forced to go back, but I knew that my mother and father were devastated by the fact that we had to go all the way back to Durban. Fortunately my wife suggested that I leave her and my small son at Piet Retief, so I drove at breakneck speed to Piet Retief, which was one hour's drive away from the border post, and here I found the greatest difficulty in obtaining accommodation for my wife and son in a predominantly conservative Muslim community.  There was only one Hindu family apparently in Piet Retief at that time, a Mr Singh, but he was not in town.  So I carried on driving around the town until one of the families took me in.  I then drove back again at breakneck speed, this time through lightning and thunder, to beat the 4 o'clock deadline at the border post.  The officer grudgingly allowed us to go through.

COMMISSIONER: I have described this incident in detail deliberately because this was the last time any of us would see my brother alive again.  In the same month after we returned from Swaziland, January 1981, I heard a knock on my bedroom window in the early hours of the morning.  Two of my brother's closest friends, who are here today, and I want to thank them for the moral support in coming here, had come to tell me that my brother had been killed by a South African Defence Force raid into Mozambique.  I was devastated.  I didn't know what to tell my parents.  My brothers and I eventually decided to lie to them that he was injured, and that we would be going to see him.  We were afraid that they would break down and not have the strength to go to the funeral.  We went by plane to Swaziland, and from there a car took us to Mozambique, but we were delayed for more than eight hours at the Mozambique border post, and I am convinced to this day that the South African Government had applied pressure on Mozambique to block our passage.  During our long wait at the border post we met other family members of some of the other 11 comrades who were also killed in the raid.  I think it was then that my parents sensed that we had spoken a lie to them, and that my brother was in fact killed and not really injured.  I could see the tears rolling down their faces.  It broke my heart, but we never spoke a word for the rest of the journey.

COMMISSIONER: We were taken to a house, where we met the families  of the 11 other comrades.  We spent the night there.  Oliver Thambo, the President of the ANC, came there to sympathise.  He held my hand for a long time, not uttering a word, just shaking his head until tears began rolling down his cheeks.  He then comforted my parents, who by now were convinced of my brother's death.

COMMISSIONER: But the finality of my brother's death was only really felt when we were taken to the mortuary the next morning.  The 12 coffins lay on the floor.  I have the names of those 12 people in the article that appeared in Drum.  I can give those names later if you wish to know them.  Only my brother's badly swollen face was visible in the coffin.  The rest of the body, I would assume, was covered because it was too gruesome to see.  When my parents saw my brother's face they broke down completely, and I want to thank God for giving my brother and I the strength, the emotional and physical strength that day, in preventing my parents from collapsing.

COMMISSIONER: The funeral was conducted on Mozambican soil, and was attended by thousands of people, and President Samora Machel was there was well.  At this point I would like to take this opportunity of thanking the ANC for the moral and emotional and physical support they gave us during our stay in Mozambique.  The ANC gave the 12 comrades a dignified burial with full military honours.  My family was also allowed to do the last rites according to Hindu tradition.

COMMISSIONER: The South African Government had stubbornly refused to allow us to bring the bodies to South Africa for fear of raising the political consciousness of the oppressed people. After the funeral the ANC took us to the place where the 11 comrades were killed.  It was in the residential district of Matola.  We were stunned by the savagery of the attack by the SADF soldiers.  Three houses were involved in the attack.  They were first mortar-bombed, because there were huge holes in the walls of the buildings, walls had collapsed.  There were several tear-gas canisters on the premises outside.  The SADF soldiers' faces were painted black, and we heard had bribed the Frelimo soldiers with alcohol and women then entered the building to look for survivors.  The level of brutality was evident all around.  There was blood on the floors, shattered glass everywhere, and broken furniture, and hundreds - this is not an exaggeration - hundreds of bullet holes on the walls and ceilings.  These soldiers were obviously bloodthirsty beasts.  I cannot describe the anger that raged inside me.

COMMISSIONER: My brother had apparently survived the attack, although he was badly wounded.  He had crawled to a cupboard and hid inside, leaving behind a trail of blood.  But the SADF soldiers followed the trail of blood and opened fire into the cupboard without opening it.  My brother's body was found inside this cupboard with several bullet holes.  We later learned that it was my brother's friend, an ex-teacher from Pietermaritzburg named Sipho, who actually turned traitor and led the SADF soldiers to the houses where the 12 comrades were staying.