The year was 1983 or 84 I just cannot be sure but it really does
not matter since I wise man once told me that, one should not allow exact times
and year to ever get in the way of a good story. By the way this is my life
story and all that is said on this book comes from true incidents or events.
And the people are real, people who I met through this journey of life.
So, my mother asked me to go to Swaziland to fetch the title
deeds of a property that my father had bought in 1966/7 from an attorney in
Manzine.i still remember that this property was in Fairview Township. The next
task was to go to Lesotho to do the same since the old man had bought more
property there too.
It is at this point that I wish to tell all Africans who
have a claim on a piece of land and cattle anywhere, even within a remote area.
Go and Claim it. It is at the centre of all wealth creation process. It will
give you the security you need to move out of poverty for your generation and
build a better economic platform for the next. Believe me, now I know better.
Had I known this then, Donald Trump would have nothing on me.
Before I left I had consulted with Matilda Moloi my old late
high school Girlfriend whose family
lived and had business in Manzini.In fact we went to a Matric Dance together
and won the best dressed couple prise. Her brothers Derrick and Charlie were
great fun, Derrick the intellectual and Charlie the smart jokester. I even
fantasised of Mrs. Moloi as a future mother in-law. She was very Good to me.
So, Matilda, gave me the lay of the land and off I went to Swaziland.
I went passed Witbank and decided to go via Carolina route.
Now, you all know that Black Prisoners were sold to white
farmers as cheap labour particular in the potato districts. What is funny is
that one of my white Class mates in high school came from the same area and he
told me that the workers called him ‘Mazambane’ meaning Potatoes.
I had read the exploits of the late Henry Nxumalo on Drum
magazine a few years earlier and I was keen to see the equivalent of the
American Chain Gang of prisoners in my country. Well, I did not have to wait
that long.I came past this farm and found Prisoners working in a raw just as I
had imagined it.
I parked my car and got out in the opposite direction to
where I was going. For a few minutes I stood there to my and their amazement. A
few feet away on a tractor stood a white man in a Khaki Shirt with blue patches
on the chest .We looked at each other for a while with no one saying a word.
The prisoners were as baffled as the farmer to my presence………..I stood there in my white
button down shirt with a tie which was my signature dress then. Everyone
wondered as to what my next move was going to be. One by one all the prisoners
stopped working and looked at me.Something in me said to me ‘Son Give Them Courage’.
I then moved to the window of the car and pressed the hooter and raised my fist
in the Jessy Owen Pose and shouted: ‘Amandla’.
The prisoners responded as if in a practised unison:
‘Awetho’.
It then dawned on me that the farmer could actually just
shoot me since I was trespassing and also inciting a riot. I jumped into the
car a turned around and headed for the Swazi border at great speed. I was now
on an adrenalin rush………………looking back to see who is following. Just before I
got to the border near Hendriena I started reflecting as to what I just did
back there. What was
that all about?
I then parked my car in one of the bays at the border gate
so as to mingle with other cars. I went in to fill a form and then handed my
passport, all tensed up. My passport was handed to me without any hassles and I
crossed into Swaziland without incident. As I drove into Mbabane a great sense
of relief overcame me and somehow I felt secure and proud of what I did to the
prisoners, even if it was just for one minute
and against one farmer. I was proud of this spontaneous action on my part, I
could not have planned it better.
Little did I know that within Ten Years, South Africa would
be a Free Country. So Strong was the White Minority Grip on the country that
even as a betting man, if you asked me how long it would take before the birth
of the new South Africa .I would say 30 years or in the year 2000,which we
though was very far,and we would only live it in space ships.
I went to the Hotel where Matilda had advised me to stay and
checked in.I then went to the attorney’s office to do my business. I checked
the rates that were due and I was advised that I should go to see the site. I
arrived there to find a family living in the yard is a shack and they told me
that they were paying rent to some old man whose surname kept coming up since
the attorney’s office. I was there to reclaim what was then to be my heritage
.I was getting the feeling that this old man was a crook and that if I met with
him. I may end up in a Swazi Jail. Remember at that age I solved most problems
with violence. I ran 12 km at an average of 3:50 min/km flat and packed a mean left hook and a
devastating right cross. I was not to mess with .I had 4 official gym fights with
12 KO’s and the difference in the streets of Soweto. If I hit you, you
fell-Period.
So it was advisable that I not meet this old man at all. I
then stated writing my report to my mother about the state of affairs in Swaziland.
This I had to do for our attorney in South Africa and also as a recordial for
our family.
I then drove down to the Moloi’ s residents in Manzini to
pay my respects and also to check out the town for some business
opportunities.In general I found the city dead and I was not experienced enough
to do this task even though I was cocky enough to think that I know it all.
Night fall came and I took off to where I was to sleep for
the night and I felt NOSTALGICK that my father who had died some seven years earlier
was not there to see me as a young man.The last time I was in Swaziland I was
with him, my mother and brother,Peter.I was six years old then.
Night time was sweet and a little hallow at the same time. I
took in all the smells of lavender that only Swaziland can bring and from my
open window I could see Mbabane at a distance and I got that feeling that you
only feel on your first night in a foreign place, the sounds, the
architechture,the foreignness .
The next morning I left the place where I was staying and
went into Mbabane on my way out. I spend time in the market place which was
just full of hawkers selling the same things. The was nothing special or
different from them all. I went into some offices full of civil servants who
always want to feel more important than the public they are supposed to serve.
I left Swaziland disillusioned and headed for the border.
Did the rituals and crossed without fanfare into South Africa.
I then headed to the farm where I caused mischief the
previous day. This time I did not stop but started hooting from a distance with
my hand raised in a ‘Power’ salute. I could see the prisoners responding in the
distance. I know they knew who I was and I gave them I little lift once again.
In my mind, I think that I did help at least one of them out
of dispear.I felt like a small stone being thrown into a dam. The ripples of
that one stone can be 20 or 50 .But whatever happens the dam has been disturbed
at least for a while but sometimes these ripples last forever and never stop.
And as I hit Joburg I felt I did good and that the energy I
left with the prisoners will somehow help us reclaim our country.
Again!
