From the book: The Diary of Maria Tholo by Carol Hermer

Over these two weeks it is impossible to tie the diary format to entries on particular days. Maria was too afraid to write down anything relevant. It was almost impossible to arrange a meeting. The bus service from Guguletu remained irregular and unreliable, there was no question of my going to the townships, and the demonstrations all over the city reached a peak, making a rendezvous anywhere difficult. Our next meeting was to be September 22. Recent events, such as the stayaway, were still fresh in Maria's mind but for the rest she preferred to give me a general impression of events, feelings and opinions in the township. Accordingly, only the events from September 15 are dated with any exactness.

Maria's Diary, September 6 - 14

It's difficult to describe or understand the kind of excitement everyone is feeling. There is danger around but you still want action all the time. I think that in Belfast they must be feeling the same thing. But not in Kampala. Even though you are not quite sure you will be coming home, you want something to happen. You don't like it to be too quiet.

It's as if people are looking forward to results and if it's quiet there can't be any results so they don't want things to stop. Once it touches you, you don't like it, like this stayaway, because then you lose your pay. But if they go on fighting, O.K. let them. I think this is the way everyone is feeling.

Everyone wants to know what's new, what's happening. We all enjoy talking about it. And when a different story comes out in the papers we hate it. 'Liars, they are trying to cover up,' you hear. What they are saying about Soweto must be the same thing, not the full story, just a half truth.

For instance they mention looting, and all they say is just that - 'Looting'. They weren't there. They just heard about it but not how extensive it was, or what exactly happened. No newspaper can describe the excitement of watching looting. You stand apart; you enjoy seeing the people take things. After all, let them have something free for a change. They don't have the money.

The owners are insured so they won't lose a thing. The minute it happens to someone from the township you don't like it because our people have got nothing anyway. But those delivery vans are insured so let the people have something free. You brush it off like that.

There was a butcher's van, a S.A.U.M. truck that was looted. Shelley alerted us. She was on watch. When we got outside we saw that someone had got into the van and was throwing the meat to anybody passing. 'Catch, catch,' he called.

It wasn't even as if he wanted it for himself. Whoever was (passing took whatever was thrown and ran. There was one whole big sheep carcass. A man picked it up from the sand, dusted it off, put it over his shoulders and he ran. It was quite funny.

The lorry people just stood away from the van. There was nothing they could do. It's best not to resist but just stand back and watch. Most of the time you find the drivers are not injured. The youths stop the vans, say 'Get out,' and start taking things. Sometimes they wait for the driver to go into a shop and then they climb in.

But it wasn't nice when Nontshongwe's paraffin lorry was looted. 1I am really sorry about that because it was his own lorry, not a company's, and there it is, completely burned out. Not all the shops could afford to fetch their own paraffin so he took drums to Caltex or wherever, filled them up and sold them to the shopkeepers. I think he charged two rand more than at the BP centre, something like that.

His lorry was on its way up 108 just between the Methodist and the Seventh Day Adventist churches. Suddenly the driver Jumped out. There were two others in front of the lorry with him and they also jumped and ran. A bunch of youths got into the back. The next thing they were pushing the drums onto the street. They rolled them down, calling, 'Anyone who wants, come and get' - the usual thing when there is looting.

Even old people came to fetch paraffin. You just heard 'I-umboomboom! and everyone came running, even some mothers. 3Some people took whole 20-litre tins. They rolled them down the street. Others used whatever containers they had.

The police were there very quickly but by the time they came the lorry was on fire. The people who had rolled the drums home were the first to be caught. The police just followed the paraffin trails and came back with the drums but they didn't arrest the people who had taken them. The children disappeared when the police arrived.

I don't know what happened to the driver. He was nowhere to be seen. No one could stop the fire so they just pulled the van to one side so it didn't block the street. I didn't see anyone come to collect the drums either. Earlier on a crowd used to collect if they saw anything happening but not any more. The police have become too ready to shoot.

Our school is really in the thick of things. We've been lucky that the police have never chased youths in here or even come in to see whether there are older children hiding. I suppose this is why the older ones use this as a refuge when the vans are passing. They can always say they came to fetch their younger brothers or sisters. We ask, 'Anything we can do?' and they shake their heads and say, 'No. I'm just waiting.' We just smile at them. You can't throw them out.

The children get very excited by the vans. Not a day goes by when they don't come scurrying along past here. The children cry 'Amabhulu', when they see them and sing that horrible song about 'Amabhulu zizinja' 4which terrifies me in case the police hear it and come in, but children are natural mimics and we can't do a thing to keep them quiet.

One thing I've noticed and enjoyed is that since the riots even people who were not on speaking terms have unexpectedly found themselves talking. It must be because of the many shocks and frustrations. We especially noticed it with the coloureds. They have always been divided into two groups. Those very well-off people who vote 5and do all those things, and the working class who have nothing to do with those small luxuries because they are not content with that.

Before the riots the coloureds used to keep us away from them. But now, even if you don't know a person, he behaves warmly towards you. It's as if you are fellow sufferers. The fact is we are all under one blanket. We are all non-white.

In spite of this I'm not looking forward to the day when I find myself under black rule. I might be wrong but our people can be hard to those under them. Some time ago I was in the Langa Post Office. It was Saturday morning and there were long queues, mostly of African men from the zones. The assistants behind the counter were rudely yelling at those who were not sure how to send money by telegraph or register parcels.

One unfortunate man in front of me was really nervous as this was now the third form he was presenting for a money order. He'd made mistakes in the first two and the assistant had just torn them up and sent him away to try again. This time the assistant told him to get out of the post office. I beckoned to him to wait for me and when my business was finished showed him how to do it correctly. He was so grateful he wanted to give me money.

Hospitals are not the same since we have had black nurses in the wards. They are impatient and rude and are always trying to shortcut their duties.

During the pass raids the African police are the worst. A white policeman can be forgiving but the African can be vicious. The only time a person is talked to decently at any administration office is when you know the assistant or you are a well-known personality.

Even for domestics it is worse to work for a black than a white madam in terms of kindness and time off. My neighbour is one example. She expects her helpers to work seven days a week with no set time off and is always packing them off at a moment's notice when she is not satisfied. I could go on and on. We seem to absorb all the bad lessons from the whites.

A lot of the news that I get is from the people who come to see Father; he is back from hospital now. The opening address is usually pointed at Father, e.g. 'KunjaniMr. N. How are you?' Father then trails on slowly about his condition and makes people laugh about his being a caged lion. Of course when he's finished he must ask after his visitor's health and the answer is always, 'Siphilile6- except for this unrest,' and then you hear of the latest happenings down his end.

I get the impression that most people sway more towards the continuation of the struggle than the ending of it without proper results. The teachers are cautious but from the way they talk they sympathise with the movement and wish that at least the educational side of the grievances would be considered. Come to think of it, Bantu Education is the utmost of insults compared with what other races get.

Not everybody is happy about the way the Black Power movement has found an opportunity to force itself into the fight. There have been complaints that adults who attend the childrens' meetings and seem to sympathise, then go around whispering violence to the youths. They are suspected of working for a force that is trying to present a different image of the Bantu Education fight and equal rights movement.

Many of the students don't trust their black leaders. They say they are power hungry and only want to line their own pockets. They, the leaders, are content to sit down with whites at a round table, which to an African means that he is important, and has something to boast about.

They feel the same way about the informers. So altogether the adults involved are looked upon as spies who want to create chaos and turn parents against their children.

The other problem, which was discussed recently at a meeting, is the tsotsis. It was pointed out that they must try and curb that skollie element that follows the peaceful marches and then starts looting and throwing stones at the sort of installations the community needs. 7

Whatever people's opinions, we have all developed a tremendous respect for the youth. Within a day they showed such power, and without weapons. They call us cowards, only concerned for our own positions and unable to Say 'no' to whites. That's why they won't tell their mothers anything. As someone said, 'If Madam-asks you what is going to happen you will say, "The children are going to march," because you must tell Madam everything. There­fore we won't tell you.' People respect someone who can keep a secret like that.

You would think everyone would be cross with the stone throwers because it makes travelling by bus so unsafe, but all criticism is directed at the police or riot squad. I hear time and again how the stonethrowing and rioting was the result of police interference and that it was the only way the children could fight back. I wish I knew the truth.

Frankly I have seen a lot of the unfairness of the riot squad. To begin with there is Ouma Swartbooi who has a cracked arm because she was beaten up by a policeman on her way from school. I won't even mention Connie who still has 58 bird pellets to be taken out from her bottom.

I had my own taste of bird pellets the other day. Nomsa was outside. She often goes around to Angela. I was busy in the kitchen when I heard shooting. Oh, I was out of the front door calling before I realised I'd even opened it. As I ran out the front Nomsa came charging in the back but I didn't see her. Then I heard 'Shwoowa' and something hit me under the arm. I was sure I was dead. But they didn't injure me, just made lots of little holes in my jersey. I got back inside very quickly.

Why is there all this shooting? Children are shot at, even a nine-year-old. Why not arrest them and interrogate them or give them a beating? Nobody here is prepared to call this justice. If anything, it proves that we blacks are treated differently, and this has just cemented racial hatred.

In spite of the riots, our neighbours have been doing themselves proud in acquiring new things for their homes. Agnes and Thabo have at last bought a three-piece for their sitting room. It is a modem suite, a soft-cushioned leather thing in brown. It must have cost a fortune. They've also installed new brass curtain rails which cost R120 for three windows and new curtains. To top it all there is a handwoven karakul mat for the middle of the floor.

Agnes is so happy again. Now she prefers having guests because she cannot show off by just talking about it. Well, being such a popular person we must have all visited her by now to congratulate her. As she's Gus's cousin I had to bring a present so I gave her R2 to buy ashtrays.

Now Ruth and Sidney have bought a TV. What excitement. It's a black and white model and she's placed it in her crowded sitting room. The sitting room acts as a bedroom for her two boys and is not as tidy as it could be by any means. There is not even leg room when you all sit facing the set. Ruth is not such a wonderful housekeeper. She always has too many bright colours that clash with her furniture. Actually I am inclined the same way. She bought the TV. because her children were always watching at a nearby shebeen. Now they will stay at home. A shebeen is no place for children.

Friday, September 17

This was the week of the big stayaway. We were first informed about it from pamphlets which were in all the post boxes last week. They asked for workers to stay home from this Wednesday till the end of the week. There had been rumours before but this was the first definite thing.

The night the papers arrived. Zeke and Joanna were over here and then Pete and Angela popped in as usual. Nomsa had told them the crowd was gathering at our place. Everyone was laughing about the stayaway, especially at Zeke. He's a big man and quite a bully. Gus said to him, 'So who says you mustn't go to work? Who are you afraid of?'

'No one,' he said, 'but you just sort of hear that everyone is going to stay home. It's a general known thing.'

We were all laughing at each other. No one knew who sent out the notices or who intended to enforce the stayaway, but we were going to listen just the same. It was like people driven by a force that they don't understand, but afraid enough to stay put and not venture too far from home.

Tuesday, the day before the big strike, was just like Christmas. The shops were so full you couldn't move. We took it in turns to leave the children. Nomonde and I went together but she likes to shop in Athlone so I left her there. In Claremont and Rondebosch there were crowds as if it were Friday - white people, everybody, stocking up for the Wednesday.

The shops were running out of things. I wanted mince but there wasn't any so they had to go and prepare more. People came back to the township loaded.

My neighbour opposite had gone to the farm to get eggs. I baked bread, Angela also baked bread and brought me a loaf, and finally Grace arrived with the heaviest looking vetkoeke. 9They were completely unbaked inside but as she said, at least she'd made an effort. 'Just warn your brothers and your uncles that I'm no cook,' she laughed. So we were well prepared for all the visitors that were expected during the big event.

Wednesday was dead quiet. Even quieter than on a Sunday because here in Guguletu shops are open seven days a week - but not this Wednesday. Gus didn't go near work. He wouldn't even venture out of the gate. Father was very, very ill. We had to get help but Gus wouldn't go with me in the car because of a notice which had said 'No cars on the road.' So I had to go alone to fetch the doctor. His surgery was open in the morning but he closed it in the afternoon and brought everything he might need and saw Father. I think it was very brave of him.

There was one shopping complex that stayed open, the one near what was once the NY 6 administration building. I don't know what will happen to them.

Angela, the adventurous one, actually went to the racecourse. She and Pete work at Tattersalls, so Wednesday being a race day they thought they might as well go. They weren't brave enough to go in their own car. They were walking along to Mike's people when they passed a Kombi that usually goes to the course, so they stopped it and hitched a ride. Actually, we've heard that most people who could afford to go to the races took a chance and went. 10

It wasn't all easy. As the Kombi was leaving Guguletu to join Lansdowne Road a group of young boys stopped it. Angela said she was shivering. She was the one closest to the door. The boys demanded to know where they were going. When they heard the racecourse they said, 'Didn't you hear that no cars are to move out of Guguletu?'

The driver got cross and replied, 'You get out of the way. You people have no right to treat us like this.' Oh, but that was the wrong thing to say. The kids - they were between nine and fourteen - said, 'You say that again and you won't have anything to go back home in.'

Fortunately, the children started an argument among themselves. The older ones thought it alright to let people go to the races because it was not working, but the younger ones were keen on the idea of bashing the car about a bit because it was disobeying the rules. Angela says Pete, who's usually the talkative one, never opened his mouth. Finally the kids let them through.

Isaac arrived here early Wednesday evening. 'Sisi,' he said, 'I could have picked up any wig you fancied tonight on the way. Did people get a beating? I came past Nyanga station and everyone who got off the buses or was seen carrying a package was stopped. People had to run for their lives.

'The ones who did the most bashing were the men from the single quarters. They said, "It was your children who made us stay away from work and lose our pay and now you go to work. We are also working for our children." And their kieries got busy.'

What had happened to the promised police protection? They always move in a convoy so they are never everywhere they should be. I heard one funny story about 'police protection' from Mrs. M. Her husband thought that if he went down to Heideveld station after 9 o'clock he'd get away with going to work. So he sauntered down, trying to look casual.

Sure enough, outside the station was an African policeman and a white one. Now Africans always greet each other. So the black policeman said, 'Ai indoda, 12where are you going?' Mr. M. smiled back and said he was going to work. He thought the African policeman would be pleased.

But no. Instead the policeman shouted, 'Hey, man, what's wrong with you? All our men are at home and you come shuffling along here. Get back, you are making our life difficult. We can look after you here at the station but what happens when you get out of sight?'

Mr. M. was very abashed and turned back. The black policeman called him again. 'Don't let that white one see I'm turning you back. But I'm telling you it's safer for you to get out of here.'

There was a lot of stonethrowing but fortunately no one was killed. The police didn't know who to shoot at. They didn't seem to know how to stop the clashes. One funny thing is that the faces in our street seemed to be different. We usually have the same mob loitering on our corner but Wednesday they were different. Pete also noticed it.

Mrs. Nodada from 108 said it was because the stonethrowers were organised. She had seen a Kombi that picked up children from Section 3 and came back with a group from Section 2. So if you saw a boy throwing stones you wouldn't be able to identify him. I don't know who was driving them around. Everyone was too afraid to take the number of the van. Perhaps there were also adults involved. Either way the police shoot any stonethrowers, no matter what age.

Yesterday was still very quiet though some of the shops were open. Gus didn't go to work. Just as well. We hear that the beatings-up were even worse. Last night we visited Gus's cousin who has double pneumonia. For once her father was home. He'd shut up shop because of the stayaway. As usual, all talk was about the riots. Then suddenly the lights went out all over Guguletu. We rushed home before skollies could take advantage of the darkness.

Today was just about back to normal as far as work was concerned. Mrs. M. came over late this afternoon to deliver the minutes for Monday's meeting. She'd just witnessed a most harrowing thing. She was opposite the shopping complex at NY 115. There was a group of children hanging around as always.

She looked up and saw some riot cars coming from the direction of Nyanga East. Her stomach twisted because she had sent her little girl to the shops. Now all the children are terrified of the cars and they run, and as soon as the riot squad see running, they shoot.

This was no exception. As soon as the group of children saw the riot cars they ran into the shops. The vans came charging along, came to a dead stop and out went the guns - shooting. At first Mrs. M. thought no one had been hurt because it seemed as if they were aiming into the air but once the crowd had cleared, in the quietness she saw a boy lying on the ground. One little boy, a nine-year-old, who was too slow to get to safety.

She could see that the child needed help but she didn't dare go near him. The other onlookers were feeling the same, murmuring among themselves but no one wanting to go nearer. There was a minister standing next to his car as if spellbound, looking at the boy and looking at the riot police but not moving.

By now the police had come out of their vans and were standing around to see who would move to the child. He was thrashing about and his arms had started moving as if he was retching.

Mrs. M. couldn't stand it any longer. She walked towards the child. As soon as she started moving, now that he was no longer alone, the minister woke up and both went towards the boy. After four steps one of the camouflaged police said, 'Hey, stop right there.'

He went forward, picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck, thrust him into the van and off they went. Just like that. No wonder people are talking about shooting in cold blood.

That's not the first time the shopping centre has been in the middle of a commotion. Last time Mrs. P. was involved. In fact, she was very gallant about it, not like Mr. Gqiba. Mr. P. was away so she was minding the shop when all of a sudden a crowd of boys came running in. She shut the front door and told them to get into the back. There are big windows in front and the riot squad would have been able co see the boys in the store.

But she hadn't reckoned on the riot squad coming through the back. They came straight into the shop asking, 'Is everything alright?'

'Yes, fine,' she answered, hoping to get rid of them quickly. But no, they went to look in the kitchen where the boys were huddled. But those boys thought quickly. There was a loaf of bread on the table and one grabbed a knife and started cutting away and handing slices around.

When the riot squad entered, all they saw was a group of labourers, sitting around a table having breakfast, probably shut in by the shopowner to stop them getting into the middle of the riot. So off they went. Other shopowners were not so helpful. Some threw the youths out. Mr. Gqiba went one worse. He opened the door and called the police to come and get them. That was asking for trouble. They say they'll be back to get even.

Commentary

Although police at bus and train stations turned back crowds of school children, on September 7 and for the rest of the week the demonstrators were back in the centre of the city, this time with bags of stones.

Cars on major roads both into the city and outside ran the risk of having their windscreens shattered. Rioters also smashed the windows of parked cars. The wife of the Austrian Consul was reported to have exclaimed as she inspected the damage to her car, 'One can't even go to the hairdresser these days without encountering trouble. I'm fed up.' 13

'Coloured' schools closed for the week and principals resolved to ask the Administration of Coloured Affairs to instruct the police to act with restraint when dealing with school children. On Monday four more deaths and a considerable number of injuries were reported by police.

The areas involved in the battle extended to the whole Peninsula and several other towns in the western Cape such as Stellenbosch. Business in the city centre slumped as people who did not have to be there stayed home and postponed normal activities. Cinemas, shops, theatres and hotels all reported diminished clienteles.

It was boom time for glaziers and arms dealers. Gunshops reported sellouts and white women flocked to small arms classes.

Employees driving to the riot-torn industrial areas of Tiervlei, Parow and Modderdam Road searched for alternative routes to avoid stonethrowers. By Wednesday, although the city was free of teargas for the first time in a week, the rioting reached a peak elsewhere. Intense rioting broke out in Manenberg, one of the Cape's most lawless townships. Twelve people were killed, bringing the total for September 9 to 16, with 19, five of whom were under 13, injured by shotgun wounds.

There were arson attacks on a large department store, and some white residential targets. Four Cape schools announced they would close until the weekend as a precaution. An arson attempt against a white Afrikaans-medium school in the centre of Cape Town further terrified schools.

By this time many white schools and the University of Stellenbosch had volunteer guards on duty at night. Minister Kruger appealed to businesses to take steps to protect their own property as the police could not guard every factory. In the Parow Industria area factories closed early when white employees were threatened by stonethrowing gangs. Some remained closed until the end of the week. 14

Prime Minister Vorster returned from Zurich and warned that unless the unrest stopped immediately, new steps would be taken. 'South Africa will not be blackmailed into giving one man, one vote,' he said. 15 In the black areas pamphlets circulated calling for a three-day strike starting Wednesday, September 15.

Rumours continued to sweep through the city. A bonfire near a senior school for white girls was misinterpreted as an arson attempt. Police were also called to deal with municipal workers burning a firebreak above Fish Hoek mountain. There were genuine arson attacks on buildings at the University of the Western Cape.

Against a background of rioting, the Coloured Representative Council opened its 1976 session - boycotted by the majority Labour Party, who demonstrated outside the council building against the detention of one of its members, the Reverend Allan Hendrickse. Senator Marais Viljoen, in opening the session, admitted the shortcomings of the institution and promised that 'obsolete practices and usages' would go. Labour Party leader, Sonny Leon, dismissed this as 'no real change.'

Although the police were not issuing casualty lists, the week ended with an official death toll of 30 for the period Tuesday to Friday.

In Johannesburg, four journalists from the Rand Daily Mail were arrested under the preventive detention laws. They were never charged. The newspaper assumed it was because of the detailed reporting they had done on the Soweto riots. An editorial suggested that the reason must have been that the police didn't want the public to know certain facts.

During the weekend, a police station near Pretoria was attacked, as were BAAB offices and buses. Police opened fire and one man was shot dead. 15others were wounded.

In the Cape, apart from a few incidents of stonethrowing and petrol bombs, the weekend passed quietly. On the Monday rioting continued in Salt River and Manenberg. There were reported stoning incidents in several Western Cape towns and police were once more called to the campus of the University of the Western Cape. Nevertheless the Argus considered this one of the quietest days in the past month.

'Coloured' schools officially reopened with attendance varying from poor to good. Proper attendance was not expected until after the stayaway. Preparations for this three-day strike began. A strike had already started successfully in Soweto in spite of a 'security clean-up' of 826 people.

University of Cape Town workers voted to stay away on September 15 and 16 and disassociated themselves from the students' call to close the University. As one of their spokesmen mentioned, the students' absence did not mean the workers could have the day off. The Chamber of Commerce asked workers to ignore strike threats and police promised protection against intimidators for all those willing to ignore the strike call.

Supermarkets increased turnover as everyone stocked up. Reaction by firms to threats of a mass strike varied. Some allowed workers voluntarily to take part, others warned that no work meant no pay and still others threatened dismissal of striking workers. This was against a background of high unemployment amongst blacks 16and a country-wide recession, felt acutely in the Western Cape clothing and building industries. Many businesses were looking for excuses to retrench workers.

Approximately 100 000 black and 'coloured' workers went on strike. Attendance in factories varied from 100 percent absent to nearly 90 per cent present. The Cape Town docks nearly came to a standstill when only 20 per cent of the labour force turned up. Bakeries reported up to 95 per cent absenteeism. Major services continued to run normally although not all workers were present.

Building firms were hard hit, as was the clothing industry, heavily dependent on 'coloured' women who were not only affected by the call to strike but also by the functioning of township creches, most of which were closed.

Centre-city businesses were particularly heavily hit as the decentralisation of the townships meant a reliance on public transport by workers, most of whom were afraid to use it under the eyes of armed intimidators.

Rumours were rife in the white community. Vigilante groups sprang up in many suburbs under the guise of civil defence and more than one stonethrower died from bullets not fired by a policeman. The groups had neither official civil defence nor police backing. Schools and factories remained guarded.

Absenteeism was even higher on the Thursday as workers, responding to reports of mass beatings at terminals and stations, refused to risk their safety. Bus services were also disrupted in many areas. There were several attempts to derail trains serving the townships. Looting, fires and stonethrowing broke out in the black and 'coloured' areas, especially in Guguletu, coming to a head on the Thursday night under the cover of the blackout.

On Friday, workers began to drift back, possibly to collect their weekly pay, even if reduced by two days' absence. Few firms agreed to reimburse stayaway workers, even if they had been threatened, and some firms even discharged them, though workers valued by the employers were rarely dismissed. The Peninsula Bantu Administration Board suspended those who had not reported to work.

On the Reef, Mr. Henry Kissinger arrived for talks with the Prime Minister. His arrival coincided with a renewed outbreak of rioting in Soweto as demonstrators, asking him to look at the local scene instead of the neighbouring one, collided with police.

At the National Party congress held that week, delegates did not appear to be bowing to pressure. Some complained at the way certain facilities had been opened to other races and Dr. Andries Treurnicht, arch-conservative of the Party, was voted onto its Federal council. The Minister of Information, later to be Minister of Bantu Administration, Dr. Connie Mulder, warned blacks not to push whites too far. Minister of Police Kruger thanked the police for their exceptionally competent handling of the riots.

Police competence was a subject under debate over the whole period. Maria has made the views of black people very clear. Police violence was criticised by the Cape Teachers' Professional Association - a 'non-white' teachers' body - who also condemned the stonethrowing. Members of the Labour Party of the Coloured Representative Council, the Trades Union Council of South Africa (W.P.), the Progressive Reform Party, and the Muslim Judicial Council also asked for an inquiry into police action.

Newspaper reports told of passers-by who had been shot by police. A teacher at Alexander Sinton who had witnessed one such shooting, that of Fadiel Abrahams, said he believed that the police were responsible for provoking incidents. 17

The Cape Times in a leading article pleaded for police to keep out of school grounds unless summoned. General Gert Prinsloo, Commissioner of Police, answered that it was not normal police policy to use violence, but when violent situations were threatening to escalate it might be necessary to meet them with force. 18

But as the Cape Times in an editorial of September 24 would point out, 'There (was) a firm belief in the Coloured community that the police use of firearms and force was indiscriminate and that innocent men, women and children have suffered grievously and, in some cases, have lost their lives. There is a similar belief in the African community.'

They would go on to cite 18 incidents that took place between August 20 and September 11 to support that claim. There was a general clamour for an inquiry into police action.

This was not agreed to, but at the Cillie Commission hearing of November and December several witnesses brought up the matter. Mr. Reginald Tomlinson, a sub-editor of the Cape Times, told of having seen police shoot on September 7 before there was any stonethrowing and that baton charges were directed at black onlookers while white ones were avoided. He believed that the presence and the activities of the riot police drew curious crowds that provoked the police into further action, which drew more crowds, and so on. 19

Professor H.W. van der Merwe, director of the Centre for Inter-group Studies at the University of Cape Town, stated to the Commission that in the evidence his Centre had collected it appeared that in many instances violence had broken out only after the appearance of the riot police. 'The riot police have a reputation for unbridled savagery. They are feared and they are hated,' he testified. 20The Centre also produced several witnesses who described incidents in which they or their relatives were injured.

Other witnesses pointed to the dress of the police as being totally unsuited to an urban situation. (The township children nicknamed the camouflage-clad squads 'die terroriste'.) The fact that they were totally unprotected, without helmets or shields, may also have led to an overanxious reliance on guns when threatened by stones.

The Commission appointed Major Cornelius van Reenen Mouton to investigate charges of misconduct by police. In his evidence he stated that in the view of the police many of the allegations were not substantiated. 21

He denied the evidence of Mr. Alan Duggan, who testified to having seen police chase children into the classroom of Alexander Sinton High School on September 3, then break windows and throw teargas into the classrooms. 22

He said that although an assurance had been given to schools that their property would only be entered on request, he had later given an ultimatum that if the schools could not set their own house in order, the police would have to act. 23

He maintained that the anti-riot squad were constantly updating their methods and he left it to the Commission to decide whether their methods were more or less successful than those used overseas.

At the time of writing the Commission had not yet reported its conclusions.

This event took place on September 10.

'Umboomboom' was the name for unrest. It could be used to describe actual rioting, or looting, or any excitement. Some babies born during that period were given the name 'Umboomboom.'

'Mothers' in this context refers to married women, who in Maria's view should have been behaving with more dignity than to rush after stolen goods. An African married woman is expected to cover her head, not wear trousers, not smoke or drink in public, if at all, and generally behave with decorum at all times.

This Xhosa song was the favourite of the freedom songs at that time. It was written to the tune of a popular hymn. 'Amabhulu zizinja' - Boers are dogs. The final line reads, 'Our only sin is being black'.

The vote referred to is for representatives to the Coloured Person's Representative Council. This is one of the separate development institutions set up by the Nationalist government since 1956 when the 'coloured' people were removed from the common voters' roll. At the last election the per­centage poll was approximately 30 per cent, following a successful boycott.

Literally 'We are living', colloquially, 'Fine' (Xhosa).

The last few paragraphs show the ideological confusion that Maria was experiencing at the time. There were several conflicting issues, especially that of class versus caste. Maria and her friends were part of the small but growing black middle-class. They saw status in terms of type of occupation, wealth, and material possessions. Their values were those of the dominant white society around them. The South African society, however, also had a caste component. In Marxist terms, apartheid could be looked at as a means of maintaining the means of production in white economic programme. But it has had an ideological component superimposed on it, the Dutch Reformed Church-sanctioned doctrine of racial purity. There was a clearly defined caste system with whites at the top, 'coloureds' or mixed race people and Asiatics in the centre and blacks at the bottom. Political, economic and other rights in the non-homeland areas of South Africa were equally hierarchical.
As a result the naturally allied black, 'coloured' and white middle classes, all of whom held the same values and who aspired to the same goals, were kept artificially apart. The 'coloured' middle-class, with more rights to protect than their black contemporaries, largely allied itself with the whites, in spite of the insult of unequal status.
The black middle-class (with few to nil urban rights) fell back on caste, rather than class, as the dividing line, and allied itself with the black and 'coloured' working class.
Yet when it came to a doctrine like 'Black Power' the threat to the position of the middle-class within the black community was felt and it aroused hostility. Informers threatened all blacks via-a-vis their position with the white administration. As such they, 'black power' preachers and informers, were lumped together as dangers, despite their completely opposite political ideologies.

White female employers are always referred to as 'the Madam'.

A Dutch concoction of syrupy cakes twisted into a knot.

The attendance at the regular Wednesday meeting in the black and coloured stands rose from 2 300 to 2 700.

From 'knobkerrie'. A stick, often whittled by hand, with a knob at one end (Afrikaans).

Man (Xhosa).

Cape Times, September 8.

In fact, during this period, no other white schools, factories or any installations were attacked. It would be interesting to analyse the reasons behind white South Africa's massive over-reaction to the possibility of attack.

Cape Times, September 9.

Official figures given by the University of Pretoria set this at 610 000 registered males. This ignored unregistered males, new work-seekers and women. Unofficial figures accepted by trade unions put it at more than 1-1/2 million, country-wide.

Cape Times, September 7.

Ibid.

Argus, November 19.

Cape Times, November 27.

Argus, November 30.

Argus, November 22.

Cape Times, December 1.