Now my home,  my place that I have found from halfway around the world.  This is where I am from.                                     Soweto Uprising

 

 

Imagine foreigners coming to your country taking over your rights, your fundamental human rights, then demand you to speak and be taught in their language. These outrageous demands stirred-up the beginning of the 1976 Soweto riots.  About 500 innocent black school children were murdered, thousands were left injured and many filled the South African prisons regardless of their ages. That’s the price we paid for standing up against one of the harsh threads of apartheid, a silent killer that has ravage the future of a Blackman in South Africa. June 16, was one of those bitter cold days in Johannesburg, temperature was almost 25 degrees. On such a cold day, one wants to sit next to the coal warm stove and keep adding coal to heat the house hoping they don’t have to leave. For those who have to wake up before dawn, walk a long distance to go to work or school, look forward to be back in the house, sip some soup or mdokwe (special porridge) while telling the events of the day. It was a normal school day I had to walk to school to a freezing cold classroom.

 

          Bang! Bang! Bang! I heard a loud voice like a thunder more bang followed. As I was running leaving my shadow behind, I carefully took a sharp turn towards a nearby house for refuge. A young lad was lying down, blood gushing out of his head spreading all over his face. He appeared lifeless. Immediately, I saw a woman standing perpendicular to him. The middle aged woman had her hands up, her voice shaking but loud enough she pleaded: please, please don’t shoot the boy, he is innocent. The police officer was aiming his gun at the same lad, ready to finish him off. His face filled with rage and brutality like a vicious animal ready to devour its prey. For a moment I felt numb. Silently I prayed asking please Nkosiyami (Lord) paralyzed his hands let him not shoot at the boy again. I felt like I was in a catatonic state squeezed tight by fear and disbelief, as I was about to witness death at such a close range. Soon Hector Peterson (birth family name Sithole, but changed for political benefits) was identified as the first victim killed under the South African police fire in the 1976 Soweto riots. We were protesting against the use of Afrikaans as a medium of instruction at black schools. News of the photo of Mbuyisa Makhubo, a 20year old young man carrying a body of a slain 13year old boy his face shattered by a bullet flooded the airwaves and sent a shocking message throughout the world. In this article, I intend to share my personal memories about factors behind the Soweto riots and my firsthand experience.

 

          It was January 1976, when the minister of Bantu education G.J Erasmus declared Afrikaans language must be use as a medium of instruction in black schools. Learning mathematics, biology, geography and physical science for the first time in 8th grade in Afrikaans, was not only extremely difficult but a bitter experience and an unfair battleground for success. One year earlier, we were learning these subjects in English for the first time. Prior to this, the medium of instruction was our native language, while we were still scratching our heads and biting our tongues trying to formulate sentences in English.  Afrikaans was imposed as the official standard language of instruction in all black schools. This infuriated black students. The enforcement of Afrikaans without any room for negotiations was seen as a way of exterminating our original culture; an essential human element that symbolizes our beliefs and greatly shapes who we are.

 

       Afrikaans is the language of the Boers, the white Dutch settlers from   Holland, also known as Afrikaners. They orchestrated the oppressive apartheid regime.  The regime stripped blacks of their dignity and their right to be treated as human beings. The teachers themselves were not capable and qualified to teach in Afrikaans. Many urban black parents stood up in solidarity to fight the monster that was about to add the last straw in an already ill-equipped Bantu education system. The Bantu education and the insistence of Afrikaans language on black students were two of the many strategies employed by the Afrikaners to subjugate and deprive blacks of access to resources: the corridors of power, wealth, prosperity and basic civil liberties.  Prior to the introduction of Bantu education, schools were run by devoted missionaries. They depended on the government funding which was stopped once the Bantu education was in place.  With the funding sources dried up, blacks soon witnessed the demise of missionary education. Bantu education was not free yet it was no education but a system designed to keep blacks off the streets, furthest away from the white community as Hendriek Vervoed asserted “There is no place for Bantu (meaning blacks) in the European community.”

 

          In 1975, statistics shows for every R644 the government spent on white student, only R42 was spent on black student. In 1976, about 257, 505 black students enrolled in 7th grade, but only 38000 students could be accommodated.  Schools were overcrowded and some classes had 80-100 students, with many of us sitting on the floor. Out of frustration and anger one of the parents asserted, “ If we allow our children to be taught in Afrikaans all they can become is minister of the Dutch reformed church" (The World Newspaper: March 1976). Today, I understand the boiling anger and frustration of our parents even better. Many parents sacrificed buying food to pay for our education. At most, some could afford only one nutritious meal per day.  With all that effort and sacrifice, they deserved the right to have a voice on matters involving our education. “The old dictum that Afrikaners knew what was right for blacks had become severely intolerable”. Many teachers and school board members openly voiced the dangers of use of Afrikaans as standard language. They were victimized, emotionally tortured and ultimately fired. As Afrikaans continues to be imposed as medium of instruction, grades went downhill; students were embittered and frustrated by the situation.

 

Initially, 5 schools went on go-slow class boycott, staying away from classes taught in Afrikaans. After many failed attempts to convince the department of Bantu education that Afrikaans was jeopardizing the student success, students of Orlando secretly called a boycott of classes to all schools in Soweto. Many schools joined the boycott. The defining moment and history began at the meeting, which was held on June 13th at MorrisIsaacsonHigh school. One of the students from OrlandoSecondary school: Seith Mazibuko, stood up at the meeting and told the congregation about their dilemma.  We were quite aware that the cornerstone of success was education. Yet, we were caught in a situation where Afrikaans was imposed as medium of educational instruction that we vehemently opposed. As much as we understood the need to learn, we were forced to reject the very same vehicle (education) to take us forward.

 

The Soweto riots could have not occurred at the more inopportune time. It coincided with the mandatory half yearly exams for which students, who were engaged in class boycotts, were ill-prepared to sit for. We found ourselves at the crossroads not knowing what direction to take.  In response to this dilemma, one of the students, Don Tseitsi Mashinini, who became a leader of the student African Soweto movement, suggested a mass demonstration should be held on the morning of June 16th. At the meeting burning and vandalizing of schools and other institutions was strongly condemned. Students were urged by leader to return to school while fighting against the use of Afrikaans. As bad as the black schools have been for the longest time, to stay in school one had to convince himself that half a loaf was better than nothing. Tsietsi’s suggestion of mass demonstration, received a warmest welcome. Students uttered boldly in one unifying voice, stating “Come hail or storm on June 16 we will march to confront authorities of Bantu education face-to-face.”

 

15000 students and I marched relentlessly chanting songs of freedom and shouting “ away with Afrikaans” if we must learn Afrikaans Botha must do Zulu, our native language” we were waving placards stating our stance against Afrikaans. The freedom songs were powerful and personal because they carried a strong message of the struggle and the suffering a Blackman have endured under the yoke of apartheid. (The songs had the same connotation of the songs like the "The How long music group" which was banned like many other black political organizations during this apartheid era.)These songs fuelled our energy to the highest degree. It did not matter what next could happen, what mattered was, to put an end to a language matter and to have a voice in our education.  It just felt right to stand up for a simple principle of what was right and fair. The mood, our enthusiasm and vigor spilled over the younger children who were cheering as they were watching from the roadside. They appeared like they were saying your struggle is our struggle too. Some unfortunately joined the march. We were heading to Orlando stadium planning to meet with other student activists and proceed to the local department of Bantu education to pledge our solidarity. It was where we were going to deliver the memorandum that entailed our grievances.

 

Our leaders were there to ensure that the march stayed peaceful as planned. We were disciplined like well trained soldiers matching energetically in synch and doing our best not to provoke any anger from the South African police. By no means would we have wanted the deadly Sharpeville incident to repeat itself. History books tell us it was March 21st in 1960, when 67 blacks, man, women and children were brutally murdered and thousands were wounded." The police set up Saracen armored vehicles in a line facing the black protesters, and at 1:15 pm fired upon the crowd"(from Wikipedia) in no time, the activists were wiped out, they dropped like flies, blood flowing from their bodies like the river: This was the MASSACRE of the CENTURY by the Killer Keys”; the Saracen cars. If hills of Sharpeville graveyard can talk, they can tell the story of the saddest day in South Africa, Imagine, sixty seven coffins each with a dead body, was lying next to the respective grave, mourners were mourning the gruesome killing of their parents, brothers, sisters and thousands who suffered serious injuries.  They were killed by police for no reason but for engaging in a peaceful march, protesting against carrying an identity document in their own birth place.

 

Our June 1976 march, protest against Afrikaans language as medium of instruction was disrupted by police who barricaded the street, with no way to move forward the march came into a standstill. The police appeared like a pride of hungry lions standing 12 foot apart from us. They were heavily armed with rifles, vicious dogs, teargas and armored vehicles. One of the police picked up a stone and forcefully threw it at the student, another released a police dog. The dog wasted no time but jumped onto one of the student hurriedly and viciously tearing him down, his blood spurting everywhere. Instinctively, student at the front row picked up stones, fought back; the same dog was stoned to death. Without any warning the police fired a gunshot, that gunshot was the first bullet killed Hector Peterson. More gunshots followed from the heartless cowards, fighting innocent unarmed children. We ran, dispersing in different directions, eyes tearing from the teargas making it even harder to quickly scan the safe-way. The noise from the gunshots felt like thunder coming from my chest, death seemed imminent.  After some tiresome running and panic I slowed down, ready to give in. I was hoping for a miraculous escape, while at the same time praying that if I get hit let it be one numb, painless blow that will bring the "THE END" for me, but for those who survive to continue with the march protest as we have vowed to accomplish the task. Moreover, I was hoping the history will serve us well and bring the tragedy of the fallen to a new beginning; a new world free of apartheid.  Children will have rights to be treated as children. All children will be treated in the same way regardless of color. There will be “one human race” and justice for all as Robert Sobukwee once said “There is only one human race”. No child will be thrown in prison for voicing his or her needs and concerns. Children will be appropriately dressed in a freezing cold weather or scorching heat and comforted when faced with harsh adversities.

 

Out of breath, gasping for air, I ended in one of the homes outside toilet, locked myself in.  I spent at least 20-30 minutes most of it shaking like I just woken up by the most dreadful dream.  In the midst of my thoughts, I had a quick flash of a profound thought, wondering what had happened to my brother and my sister who were at the march protesting with me. I opened the toilet door slowly, scanning the environment; making sure it was safe to get out. People were standing in groups along the side of the road where the march took place. They were in shock too, appalled by the fact that a peaceful march has lead to a brutal manslaughter; an unprovoked showdown of power by South African police, who seemed licensed to kill. This brutality angered many blacks. Student activists burnt the government cars and used them as a barricade to keep police away from the black neighborhoods. They sporadically attacked white owned business as a sign of vengeance, vandalizing and emptying beer-halls, liquor and grocery stores. Many of those business establishments were burnt into ashes. After the outbreak of violence many of them were without monitoring and security; this provided an opportunity for many people to steal and loot.  In a poverty-stricken community, stealing and looting was not frowned upon but was seen as a worthwhile opportunity to take advantage of. In any case most of our lives were always at the edge of destruction of some form. Police did not back down; they went away to regroup. They managed to find other entrances to break the barricades. While people were looting, they were confronted by police. Those who resisted arrest were beaten severely. Most were arrested and some faced police fire.

 

 Subsequently, violence erupted in many black townships not only in the periphery of Johannesburg, but also in Durban, Cape Town, and the whole of South Africa.  People were angry and felt they had to support the Soweto riots until something right was done. About 300 almost all whites Witwateraand Collage students marched, protesting against the killing of innocent children and the use of Afrikaans in support of the Soweto riots. The number of the students killed during the riots is not known. Students and other people who were taken to the nearby hospitals and clinics after being shot and injured by police were falsely diagnosed. Hospital officials feared the possibility of retaliation by the South African police. They wanted to conceal victim’s proper names and addresses because they knew if police found out that they kept some evidence of the truth, the repercussions would have been very costly. Gunshot injuries were registered as abscesses. If they were registered as gunshot wounds, it would be obvious who committed the crime, because during that time there was no black man who was in possession of a gun, let alone children.

 

In spite of this horrifying tragedy, the government in power did not display any remorse. No empathy, no regrets instead they secretly kept on arresting student activists, without even informing parents that their children had been incarcerated. Many families, filled with sorrow went on a hunt, searching for the missing students. With the families not knowing what have happened to their children, hospitals, mortuaries, police precincts became common places to search for the missing people. Some families even went to local rivers and dams since witnessing corpses floating in water had become a familiar place to dispose of dead bodies. Since my brother, sister and I were safe; guilt made me feel as if I had betrayed my friends and schoolmates. Some were killed while others turned up missing. Others resorted to extremes like Don Tsietsi Mashinin, a student movement leader disguised himself as a priest just to escape the police. He fled the country to Nigeria to escape police brutality. I cried bitterly, asking the Lord why this has to happen. I was angry and puzzled. From that day I realized that being black was trouble itself without committing any wrongdoing. The government created a state of emergency preventing any congregation of black people, of more than five, even if it was for the burial. We, the people, wanted those who were killed during the riots to be buried in one cemetery. Police initially denied our request. It took a lot of effort from our side to get a portion of this request granted. This action from the government was hurtful and cruel; adding salt on our open wounds. They were about to rob us of our cultural rights and the dignity our fallen deserved. This horrendous act was an insult to our culture; a part of our culture that has been embrace by generations and generations of Africans.

 

The 1976 Soweto riots, strengthened the fight against apartheid, put enormous pressure to the government in power, demanded change and the end of the apartheid regime. It forced our people and the opponents to revisit the Freedom charter drawn by the people of all color in South Africa. In the freedom charter, people were expressing their views on how they wanted to be governed in a fair democratic society. It became the foundation of the South African constitution. The June16, Soweto riots marks the beginning of the period of revolution. Its effects echoed around the world like powerful missiles shooting from the south while their sound waves travelled and resonated to the east, west and north part of the world. It was like everybody heard something had happened in South Africa. These effects of riots brought more international support such as sanctions to South Africa. The time to end the apartheid regime could not be ignored anymore. Finally, after a long struggle apartheid ended in 1994 and we witness the fall of Bantu education. In 1994 blacks in South Africa were able to vote for the first time in history. Nelson Mandela won the presidential election with decisive victory of 68% against his national party rival.  He became the first black president. 

 

The death of the children in 1976 riots was not in vain. It bared the fruits of freedom and lead to the end of the use of Afrikaans as a language of instruction. Today our voices cannot be silenced they are boldly documented in historical places such as the Hector Perteson and the Apartheid Museum. And even though the events that took place during the June16 riots were devastating and cruel, I can reflect back and say I’m proud to be part of this revolution that changed South African History. The events now seem to be a small price to pay for lifetime of freedom for generations to come. From this experience we know well, fear cannot deter our dreams.