The 80 year old Joe was nominated by the University of Edinburgh’s Dr. Tom Slater and Prof. Julie Cupples, both fierce opponents of gentrification (which is a modern form of forced removals). They have been bringing their students to him for several years and consider him to be a gifted and captivating teacher who not only teaches but also aims to make the world a better place. He teaches the students about racial discrimination, forced removals and human rights violations, and also humanises the story of those who end up living in poverty. He encourages them to learn from the mistakes of the past and they leave feeling motivated to be and do good.

Joe’s reason for doing what he does started in the Bloemhof block of flats, where everyone knew each other and where the sense of community was even stronger. It was in this block of Flats that Joe was raised, where he met his wife (who also lived there) and where they settled down after getting married. In 1967 however, the apartheid government came knocking and decided to destroy the Bloemhof community, along with the rest of District Six. Declaring District Six as a ‘whites-only’ area, they bulldozed the block of flats and forcibly relocated its occupants to different areas across the Cape Flats.

Joe and his wife were relocated to the newly established Hanover Park, an area designated for Coloureds. In District Six, the shops, work, schools and places of worship were within walking distance but this was not the case in Hanover Park. It was a cold, desolate place with no shops, schools and places of worship. Getting to work meant that mothers and fathers had to get up several hours earlier and arrive home several hours later, leaving them little time to spend time with their children. To make matters worse, more money had to be spent on getting to work, which meant that these forcibly removed communities became poorer. In this kind of environment, social ills such as poverty and crime started to escalate and places like Hanover Park became increasingly dangerous. Nobody knew each other and the resulting lack of community meant that everyone distrusted each other. Traumatised, humiliated and angered by the theft and destruction of their homes, the Coloured communities became more unstable and gang culture became violent and destructive. Joe felt that he needed to do something about this.

Although he had a good job with a large fishing consortium, he felt that the only way he could help was to quit his job and begin working for the City of Cape Town. He eventually became a Principal Inspector in 1980 and during his time at the city, he helped counsel his traumatised community and used his position to lobby the government to improve the conditions in the townships. His work led to improvements in the quality of life and safety of hundreds of thousands of dispossessed people.  This was a remarkable achievement at a time when the apartheid government were determined to brutalise communities of colour. Joe also had to deal with his own trauma which is perhaps why he became a volunteer at the District Six Museum after retiring in 1998.

Working at the museum as an ‘Education Officer’, he impressed everyone with his encyclopaedic knowledge of the history and geography of District Six. Becoming a popular expert on the area, Joe was given a permanent position in 2000 and to this very day, he continues to educate visitors on the diverse, beautiful and ultimately tragic history of the area.

One of the things that Joe does is take visitors, which include academics and students, around the area and giving them a background lesson on the area. He also likes to take his visitors to the location where he grew up. Having been demolished, his childhood home was replaced by another block of flats known as ‘Skyways’, no doubt built to accommodate ‘whites-only’ tenants. The space on which his specific flat stood is now occupied by the Skyways row of garages.  Despite his own personal trauma, Joe holds no sense of hatred towards anybody.

Joe’s primary reason for volunteering at the museum was to keep alive the memories of the residence of District Six .and continue advocating for those that were dispossessed, impoverished and traumatised by the Group Areas Act. He could have easily become a bitter and hateful person but instead, he confesses that he does not understand why everyone looks at each differently. District Six was a diverse place where different racial groups lived together as a community. There was no sense of someone being of a different race, cultural group or religion.  He is the kind of person that still hopes for a day when everyone starts to treat each other equally, sharing what they have, just like they did in District Six. He believes that apartheid was about power and greed, and he will do what he can to stop us from repeating the same mistakes.

Apart from his involvement in the museum, the father of four (and grandfather of many) is also actively involved in the Cape Town arts scene, primarily in the area of Jazz. An accomplished jazz singer, he often performs with visiting artists in the Museum. He is also involved in sports, using both the arts and sports as a means of empowering the youth of Cape Town.

When Joe was informed of the Honorary Doctorate, his immediate response was, ‘I can only accept it on behalf of the people of District Six, my people’.  As a man who has lived his whole life serving others, this response was typical of who is as a person. Yes, Dr Joe Schaffers could have chosen a path full of bitterness and hate but he chose to the love he has for the people and place of his childhood. And perhaps, someday, we can all live like Joe, not seeing each other as different, but as a community, like it was in District Six.

The post District Six Educator, Joe Schaffers, to be Awarded Honourary Doctorate in UK appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

Political theorist and activist Ben Kies was one of modern South Africa’s most important political and intellectual figures, but he is not a household name. Looking to correct this is Emeritus Professor Crain Soudien.

The emeritus professor in Education and African Studies at the University of Cape Town (UCT), former deputy vice-chancellor and the Human Sciences Research Council’s chief executive made this “intervention in remembering” during his UCT Summer School lecture on 16 and 17 January.

In his lecture, Soudien focused on the public and political life of Kies “as he strode across the landscape of the South African liberation struggle from 1937, when he made his entry into politics, to 1979 when he passed on”.

Kies, a UCT alumnus, was part of a group of young, radical Cape Town intellectuals who questioned and challenged colonial authorities and made important contributions to social and political theory. He stood alongside a group of radical men and women who were also not household names in South Africa: Archie Mafeje, Kenny Jordaan, IB Tabata, Dora Taylor and Neville Alexander, to name a few.

“But even in the midst of these people, Kies stood out,” said Soudien.

The focus of Soudien’s lecture was Kies’s founding role in the New Era Fellowship (NEF) in 1937 and his instrumental role in the establishment of the Anti-Coloured Affairs Department (Anti-CAD) movement and the Non-European Unity Movement (NEUM) in the 1940s.

Equally important to Soudien’s analysis of “the public Ben, the Ben of ideas” were Kies’s three major lectures: “The background of segregation” (1943), “The basis of unity” (1945) and “The contribution of the non-European peoples to civilisation” (1953). In these lectures Kies spelled out his political theory and his positions of non-collaboration and non-racialism.

The life of Kies

Benjamin Magson Kies was born on 12 December 1917 to parents of modest means, in working-class Woodstock, Cape Town. He attended Wesley College in Salt River and Trafalgar High School.

In 1935 Kies enrolled at UCT, graduated with his BA in 1937, his MA in 1938 and his Bachelor of Education in 1939. After qualifying as a teacher, Kies accepted a position at Trafalgar High School in 1940 and, in 1946, was awarded a British Council scholarship and spent 18 months studying at the University of London.

During his time as a teacher, Kies met and married Helen Abrahams, a fellow teacher, a Trafalgar High School alum and a prominent member of the Teachers’ League of South Africa (TLSA).

In 1953 Kies applied for principalship at Trafalgar High School but was denied. In 1956 he was dismissed from the school and the teaching profession because of his “political activities”, which included his role as editor of the TLSA’s Education Journal . Kies was also a leading contributor to The Torch , the official organ of the NEUM, and the educational columnist for The Sun , writing under the pseudonym, IN Fandum.

Kies then began working for Juta and studied part-time towards his LLB. He was banned for the first time in 1959 and prohibited from attending any gathering in South Africa or the territory of South West Africa for five years.

In 1961 he graduated and was admitted as an advocate of the Supreme Court of Cape Town. He was issued with his second banning order in that same year. This time he was prohibited from participating and being a member of 36 named organisations. He also required permission from authorities to defend clients who appeared in courts outside of permitted jurisdictions.

Kies died in 1979, in a Hermanus court, while defending four men charged under the Terrorism Act.

Roles, organisations

Major milestones in Kies’s life included his instrumental role in the establishment of the NEF, Anti-CAD and the NEUM.

The NEF was an incubator for “an incredible new culture” in Cape Town. It began as an initiative of the Workers Party of South Africa – of which Kies was a member – and evolved, with the help from the young Cape radical, into an “intense intellectual space of study”.

Towards the end of the 1930s, NEF intellectuals assessed South Africa, concluding that they needed a political vehicle for formal organisation.

The opportunity arose in the early 1940s when the United Party proposed a Coloured Advisory Council (CAC), like the Native (later “African”) Advisory Council that was established in the mid-1930s. The Native Advisory Council, of which the African National Congress was a part, and the CAC evoked a great deal of resistance in this NEF political community and like-minded people. They argued that these were essentially sites for legitimating the disenfranchisement of people of colour. Out of this resistance came Anti-CAD, which stimulated a great deal of political activity in Cape Town.

1943 lecture

“The background of segregation” is the first of three lectures Soudien presented to showcase Kies’s political theory, position and contributions. In it, Kies began to spell out the direction and strategy for the NEUM, which was founded in 1944.

The NEUM was driven by “an uncompromising humanism” – and rejected dominance in all its forms. This, said Soudien, required a level of self-awareness that was demanding and came to be known as non-collaboration.

Kies described the 1943 lecture to his colleagues as an attempt to present “a sober picture of the factors we are up against, and also to show clearly how we will have to face up to these realities”.

He said the “real united front” ─ as opposed to that emanating from the native and coloured advisory councils ─ cannot suddenly be called up or created; it must have a mass base. He also called for an analysis of the country’s leadership and argued that “practical leadership always came from the intelligentsia”, which provoked much argument and discussion.

Kies said that while non-European people did not have a “leisured class”, it certainly had an intelligentsia, one that “has sprung straight from the loins of the working class. They do not have to go to the people; they belong to the people; the people are all around it.”

This lecture led to what was called the Preliminary Unity Conference in December 1943 and the adoption of the “Ten Point Programme” , setting the stage for the establishment of the NEUM.

“The story and contribution of Ben Kies are inseparable from that of the Non-European Unity Movement,” said Soudien. “He was at the heart of the political debates and discussions that led to the development of its political agenda.”

Race and unity

Around the same time as the first lecture, writing as IN Fandum, Kies declared his position on race.

Responding to an accusation of “race pride”, Kies stated that he was not “sentimentally attached to any particular ethnic group of people”. Instead, the people to whom he belonged were “the workers and the peasants of the world”.

Most importantly, Kies argued that “no one has yet proved scientifically that there is such a thing as race”.

Soudien argued that this is “absolutely extraordinary” because Kies took this position while others inside the NEUM continued to use racial terms.

Kies also made an argument about the purpose of race, saying its purpose is to “reduce us all to the same low level of slavery, to keep us segregated even in subjection”.

“Each group is always to think that its chains are different,” wrote Kies.

In 1945 he delivered his second major lecture, “The basis of unity”.

Key in this lecture was the idea that the political movement must take theory seriously. Political theory, he said, is how you sum up matters, where you consider the interests of the oppressed to lie, and this determines direction, demands and the types of organisations you admire, follow or join.

This, said Soudien, marked the movement of Kies’s thinking from the classroom to the political arena.

Civilisation and the non-European

Just under a decade later, in 1953, Kies delivered his seminal lecture, “The contribution of the non-European peoples to civilisation”. The focus of the lecture, said Soudien, was an “incredible provocation against the idea of Western civilisation”.

“It’s a really important piece of South African political literature. And it’s one of the most important … political statements which all of us … need to have a much better understanding of.”

In the lecture, Kies makes clear that race is an invention of 19th-century capitalism. (It was, in fact, a creation of 16th-century capitalism, but Kies was working with the research available at the time.)

Race, said Kies, was a rationalisation of colonial plunder and that “imperial conquest was offered as claim and proof of the inherent racial superiority of the conquerors”.

He also dismissed the idea that Europe had “proprietary rights” to the idea of civilisation; that they were the originators or inheritors of it. Civilisation, said Kies, was not a white thing.

The Cape radical went on to talk about the apartheid theorists, saying that “we, the so-called children of Ham”, DF Malan and Eric Lowe were derived from the same stock ─ Homo sapiens . Kies argued, before talk of DNA and genes, that they were indeed one biological species.

At the same time, Kies was also acutely aware of how even the politically progressive community was caught in the trap of the language of race. This lecture disrupted that argument.

“As this apartheid-type stuff is beginning to take form, not just ideologically, but in the texts, in the disciplines … you have this almost climax of eugenics coming out of South Africa [and] you have, simultaneously, this man talking in this completely contrasting way,” said Soudien.

More to self

Concluding his two-day lecture, Soudien reflected on the significance of Kies, his work and words for South Africa and the world today. Starting in 1941, Kies rejected race as a master signifier, as the “secret of the world” and the truth. It is, according to Kies, a lie.

The powerful thing about Kies rejecting race, said Soudien, was the challenge he puts to us in calling it out as a lie: “How do you live in the presence of a lie? How do you manage yourself as a human being in the presence of a lie? It’s an extraordinary challenge because everything around you is configured in terms of this ‘truth’.”

This statement, said Soudien, challenges us to question how we make sense of ourselves. How do we begin to think of ourselves outside of this master signifier?

Furthermore, Kies stated that race is not this master signifier; he will not be defined by it. Instead, he stated, he was “something else” and it’s what that something else is that Kies left contemporary South Africa and the world to grapple with.

“It’s a really powerful provocation which comes to work for thinking about patriarchy, gender, disability … all these forms of difference, and beginning to put in front of us an argument that the self is a whole lot more,” said Soudien.

“[The self] owes its roundedness in much deeper understandings of what being human is all about, and it’s an incredible provocation.

“That’s what this man is all about.”

Note: This article was originally published on the website of the University of Cape Town.

The post Ben Kies: The Cape radical appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

Anton’s story begins in the Cape Flats suburb of Bonteheuwel, where he was born and raised. The second youngest of 7 siblings, Anton was described as a naughty but sweet kid who would help out wherever he could. He would be as ready to help hang up the washing as he was when a comrade needed to be hidden from the apartheid secret police. His defining qualities were the fact that he never seemed afraid of anything and placed loyalty to the liberation of his people above everything else. It is these qualities that would someday turn him into an effective soldier and an eventual martyr.

Anton grew up during a time when the uprising against apartheid had begun to intensify and the government had responded with a brutal state of emergency. Like many of the youth in the area, he had been inspired by Ashley Kriel to join the struggle movement as a kid. At the time, he was a student at Modderdam High and had joined the Congress of South African Students, under the leadership Ashley, as well as the Bonteheuwel Military Wing. He had been instrumental in mobilising thousands of young people in the fight against apartheid and the secret police had started taking notice.  By the age of 16, Anton had already been detained several times. He became a wanted fugitive and the police had regularly raided his family’s home, in search of him. Many of his comrades had already been arrested, viciously tortured, murdered and disappeared.

It was in September 1986 that Anton was instructed to leave the country for Angola where he would undergo specialist military training. This instruction came after he was featured as a fugitive terrorist, on the apartheid television show, Police File. He was only 17 at the time.

During his time in Angola, Anton began building an almost mythical reputation as a gifted, fearless guerrilla soldier. His best friend and most trusted comrade, Adil November, described him as a “guerrilla of a special type and a special calibre”. He had received training in weapons, explosives engineering, communications, first-aid, urban and guerilla warfare, and he led troops into several successful military operations against the apartheid South African army and their ally, UNITA. He was described by the soldiers under his command as someone who always made sure that they were in high spirits, even during the darkest of times. As guerrillas fighting in the bush, food was hard to come by and trying to get food was in itself, a dangerous mission. Anton was, however, a charmer and a gifted smuggler who always managed to get his hands on some luxuries. More than 2 years later, in 1989, Anton was instructed to return to South Africa.

Back in South Africa, his mission was to set up new military cells and intensify the armed struggle in the Western Cape. He rented a room in a double story house in Athlone’s Church Street, and operated under the identity of David Govender, a young UCT student. Also living in the house was the Noordien family. Although he operated under a different name, he was still the sweet and kind young man that everyone came to know and love. Mr Noordien described him as a man with a heart of gold and Mrs Noordien says that he never hesitated to help her whenever she needed it. During this time, the Noordien’s came to love Anton and he came to love them.

His family did not know that he was back in the country. It was too dangerous for them to know. He did however, tell the one person he could not ignore, his mother. As a teen, his parents had divorced and this is perhaps where he grew a bit quieter, more contemplative and intensely loyal to those he loved. He loved his mother the most and it weighed heavily on him that her health had deteriorated in his absence. He had to let her know that he was fine and that he was also fighting the apartheid regime for her. This was the last time she would see her beloved son.

On the 6 ^th of November, the secret police had captured and interrogated a comrade that knew Anton’s whereabouts. They had threatened to murder his mother and little nephew, and as a result, he revealed Anton’s location. This marked the beginning of what would be Anton’s last stand against the oppressor.

The police arrived at the house on Church Street at approximately 12:00am, on the 7 ^th of November. They started building a parameter, cutting down shrubs to clear their line of sight. The police had taken up positions on every side of the house as well in the properties and on the rooftops of the neighbouring houses, effectively creating a war zone.  This was, after all, Anton Fransch. They had received intelligence that he was an effective and dangerous soldier, and they could not leave anything to chance.

Against the backdrop of midnight, they began to shout at Anton, telling him to give himself up. They did not hear a response. Heavily armed with automatic rifles and explosives, they then proceeded to approach the darkened house, attempting to enter it. As soon as they entered, they made a quick retreat, bringing only the Noordien family with them. Anton had instructed them to take the family to safety. At that point, he was more concerned about the safety of his Athlone family than he was about the police.

Having to explain why they retreated, the heavily armed policeman claimed that Anton had several weapons and explosives. He however only had a Makarov pistol and an AK47 rifle. It was clear that something had frightened them, and they weren’t prepared to go back in. What was not clear was why they were frightened. What was it that they saw in the dark that made them run away and fabricate a story to cover up for their cowardice? Did they see something that all sadistic and cowardly oppressors have nightmares about? Maybe they saw a man with no fear in his eyes, and maybe this is what scared them the most. In him, they may have seen the inevitable fall of apartheid.

They made one last attempt at getting him to surrender, but the response they got was not what they wanted. What they got was a deep, defiant laugh followed by, “Come and get me if you can!” At approximately 12:30am, the apartheid police opened fire and the battle of Athlone had begun.

They fired their automatic rifles from all possible positions: from the left, right, back, front, on top of the roofs. The bullets struck everything, except for Anton. Armed with his pistol and AK47, he returned fire on the men on the right, left, back, front and on the rooftops. They made several attempts to enter the house but regardless of what they tried, they would be met with bullets. Whenever they shouted at him to come and surrender, he laughed. After more than three hours of being mocked, humiliated and outmanoeuvred, they were frustrated and sent for more reinforcements. It was also at this point, that they decided that they no longer wanted him to surrender. They wanted him dead.

At about 03:00am, a Casspir vehicle made its way up the road, and rammed into the wall of a neighbouring property. After breaking down the wall, the Casspir was positioned nearest to where they thought Anton had positioned himself. It was from thereon that the gunfire became even more intense. Afterwards, the police forced their way into the homes of surrounding neighbours and took up positions near all the windows that faced the house. At that point, there were 40 apartheid policemen with automatic rifles surrounding the house. Just after 03:00am, they shouted, “Come out you pig. Today you are going die.” They opened fire and did not stop.

During the course of the battle, several ambulances were seen entering and leaving the battle area. It was suggested that Anton had taken down a few apartheid policemen. It is estimated that the police shot more than a million bullets at him, with not one managing to so much as graze him.

At approximately 7:00am, an apartheid riot squad sergeant was authorised to throw a grenade through a window where they thought an exhausted Anton had positioned himself. At approximately 07:45am, the cowardly sergeant made his way on top of a roof, laid down to avoid being seen, released the pin, and threw the grenade. A loud bang followed and after 7 hours of battle, a deadly silence fell over the whole of Athlone. The battle had come to its tragic end.

Anton’s brother, Mark, had said that on the day of the battle, he had gone to work and heard over the radio that a terrorist was fighting with the police. Little did he know that it was his brother taking on a contingent of 40 heavily armed apartheid policemen. It was only when a newspaper contacted him that he found out that his brother was killed during the battle. He rushed to the house and entered the room where Anton had died. What he saw had haunted him ever since. The room was torn apart by bullets and Anton’s flesh and hair was plastered against the wall. Anton’s mother had also witnessed the horrific scene and had never recovered since then. At Anton’s funeral, which was held at the Bonteheuwel Metropolitan stadium and attended by over 5000 mourners, his mother could barely stand. Her beloved son was no more.

The apartheid police conducted an inquest and presenting what they had written in the report, an apartheid judge declared that Anton had committed suicide by bombing himself. However, a neighbour, Basil Snyder, had seen the sergeant throw the grenade and had also witnessed the explosion that followed. The apartheid police had never interviewed any witnesses and had refused to release the details of the enquiry. Mark had only managed to get his hands on the police file in 1995, when he applied to the truth and reconciliation commission. This was 6 years after the event took place.

Amien Noordien, the patriarch of the Noordien family, had described Anton as a tough guy with a heart of gold. He said Anton was the kind of man who could fight his own battles but was not prepared to sacrifice the lives of others.

Basil, who had witnessed most of the battle, says that it was the bravest thing he had ever seen and will ever see. Testifying at the truth commission, he said that it was important for him to tell the truth to Anton’s family about what happened and “that a brave soldier died in the service of his country”.

Yes, Anton was brave and fearless, but this still does not explain why he would invite his own death by single-handedly taking on a small army. Perhaps the answer lies with understanding who Anton was as a person.

He was not someone that did things impulsively, so he would not have taken death lightly. He thought long and hard before he did anything and had a deep understanding of the consequences of his actions. He was also a man who never placed the lives of others above his own and valued loyalty above everything else. He also felt the pain of others deeply, and this is what drove him to join the struggle and fight against oppression. He wanted to save everyone, even if it meant sacrificing himself.  If there was anything that scared him, it was the thought of hurting others and not being able to save everyone.

Anton would have known that if he surrendered, there could only be two possible outcomes. Either they would murder him like they did with Ashley Kriel, or they would arrest and interrogate him.
If he was to die, he would do so as a defiant soldier whose only goal in death was to embolden his comrades. If he could no longer defend the struggle in life, he would do so in death.
If he was arrested and interrogated, they would try to extract sensitive information that would put the lives of his comrades in danger. He had promised his comrades that he would never betray them, but even he knew that no matter how fearless the soldier, it could never be guaranteed that he or she would not give in under the brutality of torture. The apartheid regime excelled at the brutality and their torture methods still leaves the hardest of soldiers waking up in the middle of the night, screaming. Given who he was, it was very likely that he decided that surrendering was too risky and that he would rather die than risk putting the lives of his comrades in danger. It was even more likely that he chose death for both of these reasons.

Men like Anton never die. They become a part of who we are, where we are headed, and the choices we make in life. Their courageous spirit guides us, makes us a little bit braver and makes us value not only our own lives but the lives of others as well. And at times, when we feel powerless and unable to change our circumstances, he is the voice in our heads that makes us straighten our backs and look fear right in the eyes, the voice that whispers, “Come and get me if you can.”

Video: Watch below this short documentary on the sacrifices of Anton

The post Anton Fransch and the Battle of Athlone: The Death of a Soldier appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

Albert was born in Germiston, Johannesburg on the 13 ^th of March 1940 and spent most of his childhood in Apartheid South Africa. He was a gifted footballer but he would not have been able to hone his skills in a country that discriminated against him. However, when a teacher recommended Albert to Leeds United after noticing his soccer skills, Albert relocated to the UK and was signed by Leeds United in April 1961. Back then, the UK was not much different to Apartheid South Africa. It would not have been strange to find a sign that read, “No Irish, no blacks, no dogs”.

Despite his great debut in England, Albert was often racially abused by the crowd with reports of him being called a monkey and being thrown with bananas while he was on the field. This, however, did not deter him as he continued to play excellent football.  In addition to his historic achievement in reaching the FA final, he was instrumental in getting Leeds out of the second division in 1963 and he was the first South African of colour to play regularly in the top division of English football. As a winger, he scored 48 goals for Leeds in 172 appearances. In today’s terms, he would have been worth at least R500 million. However, the more successful he became, the louder the demons in his head became.

By all accounts, Albert suffered from depression. Depression is basically a sadness inside of you that you cannot control. It makes you feel worthless, as if you do not deserve what you have. This is how his colleagues described Albert. He was described as having no confidence and as someone who did not think he deserved to be famous. Considering his traumatic experiences under the Apartheid regime, as well as the taunts and jabs he received in England, it is understandable that these experiences took their toll on the athlete

As he became more successful, his performance started to suffer, because he could not deal with the pressure. He became more withdrawn—also a symptom of depression. Back then, there was no real medical treatment for depression and people didn’t really talk about it. Albert tried to silence these demons in his head by turning to alcohol. The problem with using alcohol is that it worsens your depression. When you sober up, the depression is even worse and you will need even more alcohol, creating a downward spiral of alcoholism. Albert got caught in this spiral and never recovered. Depression had harmed his footballing career and alcohol killed it.

We could argue that Albert should have been stronger and resisted the pull of alcohol, but this is not true. Depression is an unstoppable force and it will end you if you do not get proper medical treatment. Albert lived in a time when there was no proper medical treatment and people just did not talk about it. Even today in our communities, we simply do not talk about these things, as if suffering from depression is a sign of weakness. Much like Albert, many people still use alcohol as a means escaping their depression, but unlike Albert, people suffering from depression in today’ times can find the help they need. Albert had become so withdrawn, that when he died at the age of 55, his body was only discovered a week later.

Although the story of Albert Johanneson ended in tragedy, it should never be forgotten that beneath all of that sadness, was a man who was described as a beautiful and brave soul. He had excelled despite the racial abuse and his teammates said that if you want to know how brave he was on the field, you just had to look at the bruises on his legs. Players from the opposition often tried to take him out by kicking at his legs, but after a kick to the leg, he just got up and played on. His teammates also described his playing style as brilliant and he could beat any opponent at close quarters.

Despite his success, he was never arrogant and appreciated the fans that supported him. The Leeds fans came to love him because he engaged with them and made them feel like they mattered.  During warmups and breaks, he would liven up the crowd by doing ball-juggling and tricks. In those days, players were very conservative and rarely engaged with the crowd. Just by being a decent human being that never looked down on others, he became a hero to Leeds fans and broke down racial barriers in the process. He was also very fast, and Leeds fans fondly gave him the nickname, ‘The Black Flash’.

Among his footballing peers, he was a beloved figure who was described as shy but genuinely nice. Before he died, many of the greatest footballing legends tried to help him, but he was not willing to accept their help. He knew that his depression was killing him, and he did not want to drag others into the darkness with him. Even caught up in the grips of alcohol, the footballers that spoke with him described him as intelligent, thoughtful and with a sharp footballing mind.

Albert’s tale might end in tragedy, but his talent on the football field opened up the floodgates for future generations of colour, and for this, he should be celebrated. He broke down racial barriers on pure talent and by being a humble, kind and decent human being. He was a beautiful person that could not escape the darkness, but in life and death, he left a legacy that changed the world.

Note: Alberts tragic death highlights how important our mental well-being is, and that we should never be ashamed of getting help for any addiction or illness— whatever it may be. If you are, or know of someone who is, suffering from depression or alcoholism, there are helplines that are there to assist with any advice or help you may need. For anything related to Alcohol Abuse , Alcoholics Anonymous SA can be reached on 0861 HELP AA (435-722). Similarly, anything related to depression or anxiety can be directed to The South African Depression and Anxiety Group (SADAG). They are available 24/7 on 0800 12 13 14 and if you would like to speak to a Counsellor, they are available Monday-Sunday from 8AM-8-PM on 011 234 4837. For any suicidal emergencies, please call 0800 567 567 .

The post The Story Albert Johanneson, Footballing Pioneer appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

(Continued from Part 1: The Early Years and Cricketing Success )

In 1960, 29 year old Basil D’Oliviera, a Coloured cricketer, had emigrated to England to pursue a career as a first class professional cricketer, an opportunity that was denied to him because of apartheid. His greatest fear was that he would arrive in England, only to fail, embarrass himself, and let everyone down. In 1966 he was selected for the national England cricket team and in 1968, he produced what was described at the time as one of the best innings ever. Batting during the final test of the five-Test Ashes series against Australia at the Oval, he scored 158 runs which helped England win the match and propelled him to the top of the Test averages for the season. The crowd gave him a standing ovation and it was expected he would be included as part of the team that would travel to South Africa for the 1968-69 tour. Five days later the team was announced and it emerged that Basil would be excluded from the team. The events that follows became known as, the D’Oliveira Affair.

When Basil heard that he had been excluded, he collapsed in tears. He had just produced the best performances for the English side and very few teams would even consider dropping a man like him. His team was left in disbelief and his omission sent shockwaves throughout the world.
The MCC (the governing body of English cricket at the time), said that the decision to exclude Basil was based on cricketing ability, but very few people believed them. It was later revealed that the apartheid government put pressure on England to drop Basil, because they did not want to be embarrassed by a Coloured. John Vorster, the then South African prime minister, had been following the England-Australia test series from Johannesburg and as soon as Basil walked off the pitch, Vorster sent a message to England which stated that if Basil is chosen for the South African tour, “the tour will be off.” The South African Interior Minister P. K. Le Roux also said in a speech: “We will not allow mixed teams to play against our white teams here. That is our policy.”

Even before the England-Australia match, there was an attempt to bribe Basil so that he would turn down an offer to be part of the England team touring South Africa. Tienie Oosthuizen had approached Basil with an offer to work in South Africa as a coach promoting amateur sport. Oosthuizen had offered Basil, £4,000, which was a huge sum of money at the time. Basil turned him down. Oosthuizen had said at the time that if Basil was selected for the tour, it would be an embarrassment for Vorster and the apartheid regime. Oosthuizen also worked for the South African Rembrandt Tobacco Corporation which was owned by Anton Rupert, so it is widely believed that Rupert had sent Oosthuizen to stop Basil from being selected for English team. Oosthuizen made more attempts to offer a bribe but Basil always turned him down.
There was also an attempt by MCC secretary Billy Griffith to get Basil to withdraw from consideration for the tour but Basil declined angrily. Another attempt was made by journalist, E.W. Swanson, but Basil once again declined. Basil had been the subject of several high level talks between the English and South African government to resolve the issue, but nothing came of it. Basil continued to refuse to withdraw himself. Basil became such a threat to the apartheid government that they had spies sent to monitor him and Vorster kept a security file on him.

When the MCC announced that Basil would be excluded, a media storm erupted and his adopted country rallied around him. Those that thought he should have been selected included the former England captain Ted Dexter, the former Test player Trevor Bailey and West Indies Test player Learie Constantine. The media had generally felt that Basil’s exclusion was meant to maintain good relations with apartheid South Africa and Constantine stated that Basil was excluded either because of his race or because the MCC supported apartheid. A rebel group within the MCC was formed, led by former England captain David Sheppard, and called for the inclusion of Basil. Several other MCC members resigned in disgust and the MCC received a thousand letters which called for Basil to be selected.

On the 16th of September, 1968, Tom Cartwright, a bowler, withdrew from the squad due to injury and given the backlash, the MCC had no choice but to include Basil. Vorster was outraged and accused the MCC of representing the anti-apartheid movement. After it became obvious that Vorster would not allow Basil into the country as part of the tour, the MCC decided to cancel the tour.
Pat Murphy, the ghostwriter of his autobiography, said that Basil “became a focus for all those who despised the whole concept of apartheid. Basil D’Oliveira’s influence helped to usher in a world where apartheid was consigned to the dustbin.” The international cricketing community became more aware of the racist policies of apartheid and several cricket matches with South Africa were called off following protests. The D’Oliveira affair of 1968 led to the complete sporting isolation of apartheid South Africa. This isolation lasted for 22 years.

Basil D’Oliveira emigrated to England at the age of 29, and went on to play 44 test matches, scoring 2,484 runs at an average of 40 and taking 47 wickets. He also played four one-day internationals for his adopted country.
His wife, Naomi, joined him in England in 1961 with his newborn son, Damian, and they had another son, Ivan. Damian also played first-class cricket for Worcestershire, while his younger brother Ivan played briefly for Leicestershire. His grandson Brett D’Oliveira is currently contracted with Worcestershire and made his debut for the county in 2011. Basil remained married to Naomi until his death in 2011, at the age of 80.
In 2000, he was nominated as one of 10 South African cricketers of the century, despite not having played for South Africa. In 2004, a perpetual trophy was struck for Test series between England and South Africa, and named the Basil D’Oliveira Trophy. In 2005, he was awarded the Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire in the Queen’s Birthday Honours. In the same year, a stand at New Road, Worcester, was named in his honour.

Basil was described as a decent, unassuming and honest man. Dr Ali Bacher, the former head of South African cricket said that Basil showed conclusively that persons of colour in South Africa, given the same opportunity as whites, had that ability, talent and potential to become international stars. Not only did he become an international star. He also became an anti-apartheid icon. Thank you Basil D’Oliveira. Thank you for refusing to be excluded.

The post Basil D’Oliviera and the D’Oliveira Affair – Part 2: An Affair to Remember appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

Born on the 4th of October, into a Catholic family living on Signal Hill, Basil grew up at a time when apartheid’s racial segregation determined every aspect of his life, including the type of cricket clubs he could play for. He played cricket for his father’s club, St Augustine’s , on what he calls, “vast open space a few miles from both Cape Town & the sea”. They had the most basic of equipment and every morning before a match, Basil would walk 16 km’s to the cricket pitch, to help prepare the wicket, watering and rolling it so it would bake hard on the surface. They would nail the matting down and place rocks and boulders on the edge to stop animals as well as people from walking straight across the wicket. There were 25 teams and everybody would share responsibility for making sure that everything was in order for the matches. There was no formal coaching and everybody played with passion without caring much about the strategy and tactics. Sometimes they played in the streets, but back in those days, they had to keep a watch out for the police. If a player of colour was caught playing cricket in the streets, they would get arrested and hauled off to jail. It was a punishable offence for persons of colour to play sports in the streets.
Basil admits that there were cricketers in these 25 teams that were far better than him, but what set him apart was that his father instilled in him a burning desire to succeed. His father was a hard and unforgiving man who hated failure and pushed his children to succeed. When it came to cricket, his father expected nothing but excellence from Basil and excuses were not part of his (father’s) vocabulary. Basil loved and respected his father for his pursuit of excellence. Basil remained in awe of his father until his death in 1979.

As a kid, Basil would go climb the trees outside of Newlands stadium to watch the national side play cricket. He would dream of becoming a great cricket player but back in those days, apartheid made it impossible for a cricketer of colour to play professional cricket at the highest levels.
He reached the peak of his cricketing career in South Africa when he captained South Africa’s national non-white cricket team, but at the time, non-white teams could not compete in first class competitions. He admitted that he slowly gave up hope of becoming a first class cricketer, when a 1959 match between South Africa’s non-white teams and a West Indies team was cancelled. However, he was still his father’s son and never gave in to defeat. He decided to take a bold step to satisfy his desire for success.

He decided to write to John Arlott, a man who was at the time, the most famous and most influential British cricket commentator. John, who was actively opposed to apartheid, spent two years trying to convince English teams to give Basil a chance. During those two years, Basil once again began to lose hope, but then a letter arrived. Middleton in the Central Lancashire League offered him a one season season contract for £450.00 (at the time, this was a lot of money). Naturally, he was overjoyed, but his road to success hit another bump when he realized he did not have the money to get to England. Despite being pregnant, his wife, Naomi, encouraged him to make a plan and he soon managed to get the money with the help of three of his closest friends, sports writer Damoo Bansda, his brother in law Frank Brache, and Ishmail Adams. Another person who helped him was Gerald Innes, a former first class South African cricketer who raised a third of the money. John, a Coloured Christian, says that it is important to note that the people who helped him included an Indian person (Damoo), a Muslim person (Ishmail), and a white person (Gerald). This confirmed to him that being good or evil has nothing to do with the colour of your skin or your religion. It is you who decides to be good or evil.
Basil admits that when he had the money in his hand, he was overcome with another fear: the fear of failure. He wasn’t sure if he would be good enough and he didn’t want to let everybody down. He writes that he feared going halfway around the world only to become a laughing stock. He also felt guilty about leaving behind his pregnant wife, but his family assured him that they would take good care of her. Despite his fear and guilt, he was still his father’s son so he picked up his suitcase and boarded the plane.

Once in Britain, he started playing for Middleton but his starting performance was poor. He eventually began to improve and ended his time at Middleton successfully. He established a wider reputation by playing televised matches for a team called the “Cavaliers”, and took part in overseas tours with some leading cricketers. Several English counties expressed an interest in him, and he eventually joined the first-class county team Worcestershire County Cricket Club in 1964. Soon after, he became a British citizen.
He says that at the beginning, the strangest part of being in England was the fact that white people did their own menial work and that white waiters served him at restaurants.

In 1966 he was selected for the England cricket team as an all-rounder to face the West Indians in the second Test. He made a solid debut, scoring 27 before being run out, and returning bowling figures of 1 for 24 and 1 for 46 in 39 overs. In the third Test he scored 76 and 54, while capturing 2 wickets for 51 and 2 for 77 at Trent Bridge. He contributed a fighting 88 in the fourth Test at Headingley.Basil was quietly efficient in the final Test as England turned the tables on the West Indies, winning by an innings and 34 runs to lose the series 3-1. Against India he hit 109 in the first Test where England won by six wickets and went on to win the series 3-0. Facing Pakistan he hit fifties in both innings of the first Test, in a series that England won 2-0. He was one of the Wisden Cricketers of the Year for 1967.
Next up was an away series against the West Indies, early in 1968. D’Oliveira didn’t turn in his best showing in the five matches, scoring only 137 runs at an average of 27.4. He did a lot of bowling, but picked up only three wickets, even though he was economical. Once back in England, it was time for a five-Test Ashes series. The Aussies crushed England by 159 runs in first Test as England crumbled in their second innings, despite D’Oliveira’s top scoring effort of 87 not out. He was then dropped for the subsequent three Tests. He was recalled by the selectors for the final Test at the Oval, and 158 runs in the first innings against Australia seemed to have guaranteed his place in the side to play the 1968–69 Test series in South Africa. He was left out of the touring party under the pretext that his bowling would not be effective in his native country. What followed became known as the D’Oliveira Affair.

(Continue to Part 2: An Affair to Remember )

The post Basil D’Oliviera and the D’Oliveira Affair – Part 1: The Early Years and Cricketing Success appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

UWC also plays a very significant part in the history of brown people. The university was started as a college for Coloured South Africans in 1960 and was relied upon by the Apartheid government to produce teachers, nurses and essential government employees. But during the late 70’s and throughout the 80’s, UWC became known, locally and nationally, as “the home of the left,” for the amount of politically radical ideals and positions the institution took up.

During UWC’s first 15 years, the board and staff were primarily white, supporting the National Party and apartheid. One of the few exceptions was Adam Small, head of the Philosophy Department. Small was fired in 1973 because of his involvement in the Black Consciousness Movement. Apart from lecturers like Small, there were many students who were active in the struggle against apartheid, and protests from students against the conservative university board led to the appointment of the first Coloured rector, Richard E. van der Ross in 1975. The university gradually distanced itself from apartheid and in 1982, the university formally rejected the apartheid ideology in its mission statement. In 1983, the university gained the same autonomy as white universities through the University of the Western Cape Act.

After becoming rector in 1987, Jakes Gerwel, implemented two major changes to the university. First of all, he decided that UWC would be declared a university open to all meaning that anyone could enroll regardless of race. Secondly, he turned the University into the “intellectual home of the left”, focusing on social and political issues. Shortly afterwards, he employed medical physicist, Goolam Aboobaker, as his special assistant. Aboobaker had been forced to resign from his post as a lecturer at UCT due to his involvement in the United Democratic Front.
The university attracted increasing numbers of students from disadvantaged communities. Gerwel was succeeded in 1995 by Cecil Abrahams, who was succeeded by Brian O’Connell in 2001, who was in turn succeeded Tyrone Pretorius.

Other notable events at UWC include the creation of Bush Radio during the late 80s, an anti-apartheid media project. Bush Radio had to distribute political and cultural radio programming via cassette tape because it did not have a license to broadcast on a conventional radio platform. By 1993, the station went to air as a pirate radio station, and eventually became South Africa’s first licensed community radio station.
The University’s students also participated in the 1979 Fattis & Moni’s strike, after Coloured workers refused to be bullied by the management. The strike unleashed a period of strikes in the workplace and contributed towards the period of school boycotts, bus boycotts, product boycotts and civic mobilisation. During the strike, workers submitted a petition signed by 45 workers to the management demanding union recognition, better working conditions, better pay and the reinstatement of dismissed workers.

During the past decade, UWC has developed an international reputation for research and development of free/open source software solutions and open educational resources. UWC is the only African institution that is a member of the Open Courseware Consortium, and was voted onto the OCWC board in 2007.

UWC has also produced a number of high-profile leaders in private and public sectors as well as in academia and in society at large. They include Professor Edith Vries, the director-general of the Department of Agriculture and board member of the Medical Research Council; Cheryl Carolus, former head of South African Tourism and executive director of Peotana Group Holdings; Dr Yvonne Muthien, former executive at MTN and Sanlam; Zoe Wicomb, author and lecturer at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow; and Danny Jordaan, President of Safa.

The post University of the Western Cape Ranked Best Physics Research Institution in Africa appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

IT MIGHT have been too painful for people from Khoi descent to talk of their past and, as a result, there is disconnection and social pathology, guest speaker at the Cape Times Breakfast Sylvia Vollenhoven said on Tuesday.

Vollenhoven, a journalist, writer and film-maker, spoke about her book, The Keeper of the Kumm, at the Table Bay Hotel. There is also a musical theatre adaptation of the book and a feature-length documentary film has been made.

In the book, Vollenhoven writes of unearthing the untold history of her ancestors, and shares her experiences about being “too black” for her coloured schoolmates, working as one of the few female journalists in the misogynistic environment of the 1970s, and the constant impact her background had on her life.

“There are horrible stories about people’s teeth being knocked out so that they couldn’t pronounce the clicks, and people being buried without any skin because commandos would skin people as a way of showing the group what would happen if they stood in the way of colonial enclosure. You don’t want to pass those stories on to your children. And so it became a silence that became part of our tradition,” Vollenhoven said.

When an audience member asked her how the truth of her past affected her, Vollenhoven responded: “The book is a long answer, the film will be an even longer answer, and so is the play. It helped me put my physicality into place, and it helped me understand that I don’t exist in this body.

“I exist simultaneously and forever on a much, much bigger plane and that is where my power and creativity comes from. That is what drives what I am. And when I exist in the fullness of what I am, then the effect is just amazing: I can do whatever I like.”

Source: IN

The post Writer explains why Khoi used silence to cope with past appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

Born in 1938, Sophia grew up with her older brother and sister in the mixed race area of Villageboard after which they were forced to move to the Coloured area of Schauder. During this time, her father was a soldier fighting in World War 2 against the Nazis. While living in Villageboard, she attended the Saint Patrick Catholic School in the North-end Port Elizabeth and after having moved to Schauder, she attended the local Saint James Catholic School.
To earn extra pocket money, Sophia started working in a factory during school holidays and she was constantly being asked by the other workers to help them solve their problems with the factory bosses. As a result, she became a Shop Steward, later on becoming an executive member of the Textile Workers Union in Port Elizabeth. She was also a founder member of the South African Congress of Trade Union (SACTU), which would later on become to be known as COSATU.
In 1955 Sophia was appointed as a full-time organiser of the ‘Coloured People’s Congress’ in Johannesburg and she was assigned to work on projects that opposed Coloured Population act and in 1956 she was assigned to organize women for a march to the Union building to oppose the pass laws. The march took place on the 9th of August, 1956 and was led by Sophia, Rahima Moosa, Lillian Ngoyi and Helen Joseph. Sophia is currently the only surviving member of the four leaders of the march.

Other positions that Sophia held includes carrying out special” administrative functions for the late ANC president Oliver Tambo, being secretary of the ANC’s Women League during apartheid, serving on the
Sarah Baartman Eminent Person’s Group (to advise on the returning Sarah Baartman’s remains), being appointed by former President Mbeki to be Commissioner on the Gender Commission, being appointed deputy speaker Speaker in the Gauteng Legislature, and she served on several other committees.
Her awards include the 1999 Class Silver for meritorious service in the interest of the general public (presented to her by former President Nelson Mandela), the1999 Ida Mntwana Award Silver for exceptional service rendered to the women of South Africa, the 2001 Women’s Award for exceptional national service, a Commendation Certificate for having demonstrated devotion and loyalty to South Africa, the 2001 Mahatma Gandhi Award for her immense contribution to the establishment of democracy in South Africa (presented by former president Thabo Mbeki).

Despite all her positions and awards, Sophia still remains a true activist and is openly critical of people who only wants to be in government for positions. She says that, at the height of the struggle against apartheid, her generation did not know the word “deployment”. It was all about fighting injustice and being committed to social upliftment.

We dedicate women’s day to all the heroines who fought bravely to ensure that all women that came after could be treated with dignity and respect. One of the heroines is Sophia Theresa Williams de Bruyn. We salute you Sophia.

The post The Story of Sophia de Bruyn appeared first on Coloured South Africa .

The son of Yusuf and Lelia Howa and the eldest of five brothers and six sisters, Hassan was born and raised in t he poor and infamous neighbourhood of District Six. Soon after having graduated from Trafalgar High School, he worked for the family business after which he worked as a travel agent and a supervisor. Being Coloured during apartheid, he was prevented from becoming a manager and quit after having been overlooked for a managerial position that went to a young white male whom he had trained.

As a young man, Hassan was deeply influenced by his father, who was a prominent member of the anti-apartheid movement, the South African Indian Congress. Furthermore, cricket was Hassan’s first love and he devoted his life to ensuring that there was equality in the game of cricket and sports in general. For him, participation in sport was critical for the growth and development of the individual as well as for society as a whole.
In 1947, Howa was a founder member of the SA Cricket Board of Control (SACBOC) which worked to promote cricket among the oppressed. Strongly influenced by the political movements of the Western Cape, with its long-standing tradition of principled opposition to racism, Hassan found himself becoming the voice of non-racial sport in South Africa. He led a fearless campaign throughout the 1970s against apartheid cricket and with the support of mainly Indian and Coloured communities, the apartheid cricket team was banned from participating in international cricket.
Hassan believed that all apartheid sports should be banned and formed the South African Council on Sports (SACOS) to pursue this goal. As the leader of SACOS, he lobbied for South Africa’s expulsion from world sport under the slogan: No “normal” sport in an abnormal society. Despite being harassed and persecuted by the apartheid police, the campaign led to the complete international isolation of apartheid sporting teams and this had a significant impact in bringing an end to apartheid.
In addition, Hassan was also a member of the committee that raised money for students arrested during the 1976 and 1981 anti-apartheid riots and he was a founder member and patron of the United Democratic Front. He also used his resources to provide better sports facilities in underprivileged areas and was active in identifying young cricket players who could be coached to play for the provincial and national team.

At the time of his death in 1992, Hassan was survived by his loving and devoted wife, Sybil, six sons, three daughters, and twelve grandchildren. He was honoured with a presidential medal in 1998, the Order of Ikhamanga in silver (for his his excellent contribution to the struggle for and the development of non-racial sport in South Africa) in 2004 and an honourary doctorate from the University of the Western Cape in 2013. He has not as of yet been recognised for his contribution to the sport by Cricket South Africa.

Many years ago, before most of us were born, Lelia Howa gave birth to a boy named Hassan Howa. He would go on to become a great man, dedicating his life to the fight against apartheid and the fight for non-racism in sport. Let’s honour his memory by continuing that fight.

The post The Story of Hassan Howa appeared first on Coloured South Africa .