ABOUT THE BOOK
If the Mandelas were the generals in the fight for black liberation, the Mashininis were the foot soldiers. Theirs is a story of exile, imprisonment, torture and loss, but also of dignity, courage and strength in the face of appalling adversity. Originally published in the UK and USA to critical acclaim, A Burning Hunger tells a deeply moving human story and stands as one of the seminal books about the struggle against apartheid.
On 16 June 1976, the youth of Soweto rose up in protest against a new rule making Afrikaans, the language of their oppressors, the medium of instruction in their schools. Tsietsi Mashinini, a charismatic seventeen-year-old high school student, led them in demonstrations that quickly became the most significant uprising in South Africa’s history. His actions that day set in motion a chain of events that would forever change South Africa, define his family and transform their lives.
Joseph and Nomkhitha Mashinini and their twelve other children were drawn into the struggle, becoming immersed in almost every facet of the fight for liberation, from guerrilla warfare to urban insurrection. Although Joseph and Nomkhitha were peaceful citizens who had never been involved in politics, five of their sons became leaders in the anti-apartheid movement. Each member of the family paid a price, whether through imprisonment, torture, exile or separation. Together, they embodied the courage of a generation that refused to accept the world as it was given to them.
This is an extraordinary story of a family that became a symbol of resistance; a tale of unimaginable adversity met with dignity and defiance and an example of what ordinary people are capable of when injustice becomes intolerable. Basing her narrative on extensive research and interviews, Lynda Schuster richly portrays the Mashininis and in so doing reveals black South Africa during a time of momentous change.
This is also a story for right now. Fifty years after the Soweto Uprising, South Africa’s hard-won freedoms are not guaranteed. Every generation must decide, for itself, what it is willing to stand for and what it is willing to stand up against. A Burning Hunger is a gripping human drama and an essential piece of South African history, as urgent, alive and necessary as the moment it chronicles.
[Having galvanised the youth of Soweto, Tsietsi and his peers decided to expand the scope of their revolt to include a broad range of grievances and representatives from every secondary and junior secondary institution in the township. The new organization, of which Tsietsi became president, was named the Soweto Student’s Representative Council; it began planning a series of strikes and boycotts.]
EXTRACT
Chapter 4 - The Children
Tsietsi’s identification as the president of the Soweto Students’ Representative Council (SSRC), his photograph in the newspapers, his public statements – all seemed to taunt the government and intensify its determination to arrest him. Unable to catch Tsietsi at home, the police tried anothertack. They claimed that for his own security, Tsietsi ought to hand himself over to the authorities; a group of disgruntled workers wanted to kill him because of the uprising. When that failed, the police posted a 500-rand reward for information leading to his arrest. Tsietsi Mashinini was now the most hunted man in South Africa.
Suddenly, people who had shunned Joseph and Nomkhitha offered to hide their son. The Mashininis took a dim view of such proposals. The reward was the equivalent of a year’s salary for a domestic worker and thus a considerable temptation, especially to poor township residents. The SSRC officers were equally skeptical and decided to limit knowledge of Tsietsi’s whereabouts to two people. Barney Makgatle, who was older than most of the activists, became Tsietsi’s chauffeur. He had years of driving experience, knew the township’s byways, and could spot a roadblock from a long distance. Selby Semela, another SSRC member, took on the role of companion to Tsietsi. A measured, cautious youth, Selby often acted as a balance to Tsietsi’s extreme self-confidence. They made for a strange trio: the driver, the comrade and the impassioned leader, traversing the township at odd hours, addressing students at various schools, distributing pamphlets, sleeping in a new safe house each night.
Tsietsi began to lead the police on a chase. With Drake Koka—a major figure in the Black Consciousness movement--providing an ever-changing array of cars, a mythology arose about Tsietsi’s ability to evade capture. People likened him to Nelson Mandela, who was given the apartheid-modified appellation of the Black Pimpernel in the early 1960s for his escapades while being hunted by the government. One such story about Tsietsi had him presiding over a meeting of SSRC members at Morris Issacson High School when it was surrounded by security officers. Acting on information that Tsietsi was inside, they made the youths leave the building one by one. Tsietsi, dressed in girls’ dungarees and a beret, sauntered past the policemen; they looked him up and down – and let him pass.
Another tale put him at Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto in the middle of the day. Poppy Buthelezi, a young girl who had been shot by the police on June 16 and was paralysed from the waist down, was hospitalized there. As the weeks passed and the uprising progressed, she heard the parents of other wounded students muttering about how this was all the fault of Tsietsi Mashinini. One afternoon, a young man bearing a large basket of fruit appeared on the ward. Striding over to Poppy’s bed, he handed her the delicacies. ‘Tell them you got this from Tsietsi Mashinini,’ he said, then disappeared down the hallway.
One such story was immortalized on film. Drake had asked a friend’s grandson, who was visiting from Germany, if he could rent a car in his name; since the grandson was unknown to the police, the vehicle most likely would not raise suspicion. The young man agreed. Drake rented a small grey car and gave it to Tsietsi and his companions to use. With no real purpose and full of teenage bravado, they drove it directly to the Moroka police station in Soweto, where they remained for a time. As they left the car park, the youths thrust their fists out of the windows in the black power salute – a gesture that was captured on film by a passing photographer, Peter Magubane. Drake would see the picture on display in London after he went into exile. He was astounded by the spectacle: the apartheid regime’s ‘most wanted’ fugitive sitting on the doorstep of the police, virtually daring them to look up from their desks and arrest him.
Nomkhitha feared Tsietsi’s luck would not hold. And, if the police did capture him, she believed he would die in detention. The authorities would say he had hanged himself, or jumped from a window, or done any of the other implausible things they gave as explanations for the scores of activists who died while in police custody. Tsietsi scoffed at Nomkhitha when she spoke of her concern. ‘I wish I could see my funeral,’ he laughed, with all the arrogance of youth. To a Black journalist, Tsietsi said: ‘I don’t say they can’t get me. I know they can kill me any time. What they don’t know is that they cannot kill the spirit. They will kill me now, but there will be another Tsietsi, a day or even an hour later.’
Despite the brave talk, Tsietsi understood the precariousness of his existence. As did Drake. The police now suspected Drake’s involvement with the youth; an officer had told him his colleagues would kill Tsietsi when they found him. On the same day, Drake heard that a bullet fired at Tsietsi as he drove through the township had missed his head by millimetres. Drake took the incidents as warnings. Given Tsietsi’s penchant for courting danger, Drake decided he had to find a way to get him out of the country.
He considered several plans, only to discard them for one flaw: transportation. The cars Drake could hire had licence plates from Johannesburg or the seaside city of Durban; a group of young Black men travelling in a vehicle from those areas, the scenes of much violence, was sure to attract the attention of the police. Drake confided his frustration to a friend, Reverend Legotlo, a clergyman and political activist who had great sympathy for the uprising. Reverend Legotlo offered to driveTsietsi across the border in his car. Its licence plates from Pretoria, the country’s capital and an Afrikaner stronghold, would be less conspicuous.
Drake sent an urgent message to Tsietsi that he needed to see him immediately. Despite Drake’s insistence that it had become too dangerous for him to remain, the youth was in no mood to discuss his departure from South Africa. ‘I don’t want to leave the struggle,’ Tsietsi kept repeating. ‘What good will I be in exile?’
‘You’ll continue the struggle outside the country,’ Drake suggested gently.
It took Drake several sessions of such exchanges to convince Tsietsi that he would have meaningful work to do in exile. Tsietsi finally agreed to go, on the condition that Barney and Selby accompany him.
Tsietsi went home to say goodbye to his family. His arrival astonished Nomkhitha; she had just read a story in the newspapers, planted by Drake, that Tsietsi had fled South Africa. Tsietsi was delighted by the ruse. Now the road is clear to go, he explained, but would not tell his parents when he was departing or his destination for fear of further implicating them. Nomkhitha kissed and hugged Tsietsi; she clung to him for an extra second, not wanting to let him go. Yet she knew he would be safer outside the country. Nomkhitha took comfort in the belief that he would soon be back; if the uprising continued apace, South Africa would be liberated in just a year or two. Joseph said he wanted to pray. The family formed a circle, joined hands and bowed their heads as Joseph intoned a prayer for his son’s safety. Then Tsietsi left, with a smile and wave of his hand as he vanished into the night.
Extract provided by Jacana Media
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.