6 – Willing to serve
One thing that came
was the Bisho massacre in September 1992.
Vuyo was there, he said; 80 000 marchers protesting the apartheid puppet
rule of ‘Oupa’ Gqozo; his autocratic handling of the Ciskei was for all
thinking locals the very acme of apartheid’s geo-political insanity. Two
ill-judged bursts of Ciskei Defence Force sustained rifle fire, 28 dead. Among the marchers were Chris Hani, Cyril
Ramaphosa, Ronnie Kasrils. Among the 200
injured was Marian Lacey. (Vuyo had got
to know this social historian and activist earlier: he drew a finger across his
forehead to show where a bullet creased her.
Marian was lionised amongst the lefties I knew at the university in the
early ‘eighties, respected for her book-length study, Working for Boroko, and deeply mourned when she died of cancer.) “I think four people died in front of me,” Vuyo said, “and I was jumping over them,
because I had no other option but to take cover so I could be in a safe place;
so there is place there in Bisho next to the road that has those small trees
there, so we went there in big numbers to take cover, but the helicopter, SA Police
helicopter came and shot us. I don’t
know what happened, but when I checked my body there were no bullets there. I am lucky because I didn’t understand what
would happen to me. So if you were in
the battle during those days, if maybe you will see there are no bullets,
or you are not arrested, don’t say you are lucky, because you don’t know what
will happen.”
۞
In between his
jejune political activities he was still going to school, up until Grade 9,
which he did in 1998. Then he got ill,
and never got back to studying. It was
what he had done “underground” – just what never became clear, maybe running
messages, just listening out, like the guerrilla mujibhas I’d encountered in the Rhodesian war – that disposed him
later towards voluntary community activities.
He says, “If you give me a job of working for the community,
that's my bread, that's what I want in life.
I wanted to be a child psychologist, because I love kids so much and
then they love me also. Ja, it's like, I
mean if there's a presence of ubuntu, I have no problem. I can work with animals, I have no
problem. As long as it is god-given to
me, and then I am willing to serve.” He volunteered at the university’s legal aid
outreach programme, on domestic violence and HIV/AIDS forums. Ironically, as it would turn out.
۞
That AIDS
counselling centre, it’s a small house.
It’s very small, my house is bigger than that centre. They’re doing a
lot of things. Every morning, whether
you are angry or not, you must listen to them because they are praying. Singing and praying. Some of the people who are going there, they
are the caregivers. And then they are
spreading the information also. Also, I
decided to make this kind of appointment for legal activism is that, most of
the people who are working there, who are going there, there’s that kind of a
stigma. Those gossips and all that
stuff. So we go and tell them about
HIV/AIDS and the law. Because there must
be involvement of law, if someone feels bad, through stigma, she or he can act,
legally. We are going to tell them about
their rights and all that stuff. You
can go to the Department of Law, conduct a legal activism, or a legal aid
clinic, here at the University, here in N Street. And then they will defend you, protect
you. It’s like a court case – you can
sue someone if he or she insults you with your disease.
My role is domestic violence and
HIV/AIDS. I sometimes answer questions,
and translate, somewhere, and I used to call other people – during the
workshop, I used to observe, it seems as if that guy is lost. I used to call him during interval and say,
what are we trying to say here? This and
this and this and this. Last year we
invited all schools, we took only five students from each high school. But,
this year, our theme also this year and next year, we want to focus on the
higher primary because those ladies there, they don’t know about rape. Unlike the high school, so focusing on this
before the high school because they don’t report rape. It’s sometimes their fathers who are taking
some chances. Also, we want them to
reveal those things.
Ja,
this gender violence has become such a big problem. It’s a variety of things. I don’t want to be too much tacticional, but
there is an involvement, going back. In
1986, or late ‘80s, there were municipal police, they were from other provinces
and they were not Xhosas. So, they had some
love affairs with our sisters in the location, then they had some
children. Fine, no problem. But the problem is, according to our culture,
something must be done, you know, traditionally. Now those guys they left. That’s where the problem is. Now you see the corruption in our
location. People are killing each other
and all that stuff – it’s because of that.
Being a person, you must have a background. If I’ve got a kid, from somewhere, then I
must respect that. Then I must report
that to the ancestors. But if you don’t
report yourself to the ancestors, you’ll see some symptoms, some wrong
symptoms, according to our culture. It’s
one of the causes.
The
second cause, it is materialistic. It’s
like if I am working and my dear girlfriend is not working and has a
daughter. And if my girlfriend is not
here, and her daughter is here, I abuse her.
Sometimes, our girlfriend knows that, that we are abusing their girls,
but they are scared too, because they don’t have money and all that. They’re stuck in that situation. It is ungodly, it is unacceptable. In our location, should they notice you, they
punish you like nobody’s business. It is
painful. I don’t understand, you
know.
I
think men are angry. I know some of the
guys, you know one of my friends, he’s a soldier; we were together in the
struggle and we’re still friends even now.
Last month he was here in town to bury his brother. He died of HIV/AIDS-related issues. He said, he said to me, I am a man, I am
walking in the street, during the night, I see a lady there, I go there and
rape her. He said that, he don’t
understand that. He don’t understand,
he’s very lost about that. Most of the
guys they are lost, you know. I say to
him, I mean, what happened to you, just like that? In these few minutes? Why?
So it means that you are such a boast, such a criminal?
۞
Most ironically of
all, in the early 2000sVuyo joined a community policing outfit, trained by some
of the very same white Afrikaner policemen – heavy, forceful if not brutal men
– who had terrorised the townships under apartheid. “When we were boys we used to run from that
man, run!” Vuyo makes running motions with his
forefingers and hisses his giggle. “We
would throw stones to his car then run-run-run.” Now one of those same detectives is working
with the township community-policing groups to repress drug-smuggling and
illegal weapons and gang murders.
“I am an anti-crime activist also
there in my area,” Vuyo says, proud but not boastful. “If you remember, in 2007, when that mother
and the father, they were slaughtered there by two guys, then I am the one who
brought in the information. Because I
track those guys, I managed to track them.
And then one of them was arrested on the following day, one of them on
the second day, they were both arrested.
Then they are both in custody serving a life sentence. I wanted to be an intelligence officer, I
wanted to serve with the police. But I
said no, because of my age now. But I
and these guys of APLA, we are still combating crime, even though we are not
officially registered as police. But,
when we've caught the criminal, we call the police. It's like, we don't punish the criminal and
all that stuff. But we are winning. We are winning in our job.”
Vuyo seems accepting of the weird ironies. For all that fundamental geographies and
divisions and scars of apartheid remain with us, times have shifted; the tenor and directions of criminality and threat
have radically reorientated. Vuyo will
do what he must to try to protect his community, as he has always done.
۞
There were
guys who were trying to rob the foreigners.
So-called amagwaragwara – I hate that.
They were trying to rob that shop in Extension 9, and one of those guys
was killed in 2004. So, we were going
together with M., and it seems to be that they are all former soldiers, PAC
there. Then M. said, hey, can you see
what I see now? That guy is armed. We thought he is joking. And he said, what I’ll do now, unarmed
combat. I’m going straight to that guy
now and I’m going to disarm him. We
thought that he was joking, and he went there, and he disarmed him, and we went
and support him. Then we called the
police. Illegal firearm and all that
stuff. And we called the
detectives. They compensate us with
R4000 and said share it. In some cases,
I’ve been compensated, mostly under R.B.
It’s like, if you bring information, he’ll give you a phone and R200 and
say, wait for finance department. He’s
just compensating you personally. Later,
I was here at home, at my mom’s place, then when I came back, there was an
incident of mob justice. I called my
girlfriend, my girlfriend was there and I asked. She said to me, Bhuti R. and the wife,
they’re all dead. I said, is there any
suspect? She said, No. I said, I’ve got the suspect. It was like I was suspicious. The way some people were behaving and all
that. So suspicious. And I called R.B. Caught them, television, blood on the
clothes. I know them, those men, they
are from my community, the very same street.
I don’t know what’s going on with those guys, really. It’s getting worse. It’s getting worse and worse. It was better in the ‘eighties, you know. Then we had a mission, there was always that
mission. Now there is no mission.
During
the ‘80s, in our community, you don’t take chances, you don’t rape, you don’t
kill. You focus on the enemy. Should you rape, the mob justice – they burn
you, like nobody’s business, then. If we
can go back to 1985, there’ll be no crime in our location. Let’s take back the necklace. I don’t support the necklace but, most of the
people in our community, they want the necklace back. Should you rape – necklace. Should you break the house – must be
necklace. By doing that we are
eliminating rape.
There
are drugs also. I chased another guy
yesterday, in Extension 9. He’s selling
drugs, for our kids, which is bad. It’s
something we would never tolerate in our location, you like it or not. It’s also like that motto of impimpi, the
spy, you know? Said now, you want an
operation impimpi now, you want the people to spy now and tell the police about
things, tell the community police. Some
of the police are working well.
Midnight, they are always there in Extension 9, driving some nice cars,
Kompressors, Mercedes Benz, so you won’t be suspicious. Then, they are willing, they are
willing. There was another guy there at
Xolani. He used to do some random
shootings and all this stuff, and then R.B., that detective, midnight [claps].
He use a borer to open the door .
Firearm is at the police station now.
There
are so many firearms around. Most of
them they are illegal, even those who have legal firearms, they are not
behaving well. This guy R.B., is having
some operation now of disarming all these guys who are armed. They gave us some pepper sprays also, just
to spray them when we are disarming them.
But we mustn’t beat them, must call the police and leave them. It’s not easy to take a firearm, anything can
happen. It’s an unarmed combat. If someone is armed, if you are trained,
then, there is no problem, you can disarm them.
You must be flexible.
۞
Text and images © Dan Wylie
"Township: Pre-dawn edge (missing man)"
Grahamstown 2016
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