JUNE 1976 Tribute Book (2) Ebook
The book, aptly titled June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue, serves as a powerful memoir that sets several facts straight. It’s written much along the lines of Julie Frederikse’s “None But Ourselves”, which is ranked among the most authentic accounts of how the struggle for the liberation of Zimbabwe was won. The book, written by Eunice Rakhale-Molefe, forms part of a series of commemorative dialogues aimed at; first, demystifying and bringing to light the above mentioned omitted facts. Secondly, to highlight the milestones that have been implemented as part of turning the heritage schools as institutions of academic excellence. Rakhale-Molefe’s elaborate narrative is enhanced by interviews with the school’s alumni including former North West premier Popo Molefe, Nelson Mandela Children ’s Fund spokesman Oupa Ngwenya, former director-general in president Thabo Mbeki’ s office Frank Chikane and Provincial Chief Director in the Department of Basic Education and Training’ s Zanele Mthembu. Others include Enos Ngutshane, the man whose letter to the Bantu education department rejecting Afrikaans as a medium of instruction sparked the June 16, 1976 insurrection, and retired Sowetan news editor Willie Bokala. They all speak frankly, albeit nostalgically, in the book June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue, and are all working hard behind the scenes to return Naledi High School to its former glory as an academic, sporting and cultural powerhouse. Predictably, the book starts with the recollections of incumbent principal Kenneth Mavatulana, who poignantly says in part that: “A school is an institution that is about academic performance and unless we have addressed the school’s performance, we cannot truly celebrate.” All the book’s interlocutors present enthralling anecdotes about how bad things were in the early 1970s and how the families and the entire communities’ lives were adversely affected. Readers will appreciate the students’ noble and surprisingly mature liberation struggle roles, which they played as innocent youths who were reacting to an otherwise oppressive, suppressive and divisive regime. It tells of how Naledi High School is an institution worthy of respect as a one of the 8 heritage schools of Soweto.
The book, aptly titled June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue, serves as a powerful memoir that sets several facts straight. It’s written much along the lines of Julie Frederikse’s “None But Ourselves”, which is ranked among the most authentic accounts of how the struggle for the liberation of Zimbabwe was won.
The book, written by Eunice Rakhale-Molefe, forms part of a series of commemorative dialogues aimed at; first, demystifying and bringing to light the above mentioned omitted facts. Secondly, to highlight the milestones that have been implemented as part of turning the heritage schools as institutions of academic excellence.
Rakhale-Molefe’s elaborate narrative is enhanced by interviews with the school’s alumni including former North West premier Popo Molefe, Nelson Mandela Children ’s Fund spokesman Oupa Ngwenya, former director-general in president Thabo Mbeki’ s office Frank Chikane and Provincial Chief Director in the Department of Basic Education and Training’ s Zanele Mthembu. Others include Enos Ngutshane, the man whose letter to the Bantu education department rejecting Afrikaans as a medium of instruction sparked the June 16, 1976 insurrection, and retired Sowetan news editor Willie Bokala.
They all speak frankly, albeit nostalgically, in the book June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue, and are all working hard behind the scenes to return Naledi High School to its former glory as an academic, sporting and cultural powerhouse. Predictably, the book starts with the recollections of incumbent principal Kenneth Mavatulana, who poignantly says in part that:
“A school is an institution that is about academic performance and unless we have addressed the school’s performance, we cannot truly celebrate.”
All the book’s interlocutors present enthralling anecdotes about how bad things were in the early 1970s and how the families and the entire communities’ lives were adversely affected. Readers will appreciate the students’ noble and surprisingly mature liberation struggle roles, which they played as innocent youths who were reacting to an otherwise oppressive, suppressive and divisive regime. It tells of how Naledi High School is an institution worthy of respect as a one of the 8 heritage schools of Soweto.
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
i
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
Tribute
June 1976
Commemorative
Dialogue
i
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
ii
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
Tribute
June 1976
Commemorative Dialogue
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
iii
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
i
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
Heritage and Legacy Building Since 2009
ii
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
iii
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
iv
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
10
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
11
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
12
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
13
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.”
14
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
15
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
16
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
17
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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,
18
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
19
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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,
20
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
21
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
22
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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
23
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
24
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
“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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
28
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
“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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
“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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
55
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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.
57
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
59
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
61
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
63
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
67
Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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.
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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.
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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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
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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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.’
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“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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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),
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
“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.
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.
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“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.
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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.
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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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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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.
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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
June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
“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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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!”
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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
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“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.’
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“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?”
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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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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.”
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147
June
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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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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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
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June 1976 Commemorative Dialogue
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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Eunice Rakhale-Molefe
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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