PART THREE
UMKHONTO WE SIZWE
Chapter 10 - Going out of the country for training
Chapter 11 - The making of a guerrilla army
Chapter 12 - Alliances
Chapter 13 - Difficult times
Going out of the country for training
In May 1963, after being underground for three months, I left South Africa for military training.
I had not expected to go because of the policy that only single people should be sent. As explained, the ANC regional committee decided to add the four of us to the next group only because we were facing gaol. They thought it better for us to go abroad for a short period and return with knowledge to help the struggle, than to rot indefinitely in prison. They could not know that the "short period" would last longer than 27 years.
The first group had already left. The journey had not been smooth for our young militants from Cape Town. First they were interrogated by the police in the Orange Free State and then, when they got off the train at Klerksdorp, they were unable to find the contact who was supposed to take them to Johannesburg. They had to call ANC people in Cape Town from a public phone booth, and then phone Johannesburg to send someone to rescue them.
A Johannesburg comrade called Patrick Mthembu was in charge of the operation of transferring people out of the country. He was one of the few who, like MK's commander in chief Raymond Mhlaba, had been militarily trained, in China, and we had had great confidence in him. It was he who should have arranged for the contact to be in Klerksdorp, and we were disappointed by this failure.
The Western Cape regional committee had decided that our second group should not depend on Mthembu alone, and since knew Johannesburg from treason trial days I was sent north first to make some fallback arrangements. I was there to meet the comrades when they arrived at Klerksdorp. This was just as well, because the contact did not turn up, for the second time. Luckily I had been able to arrange accommodation for them in townships, so we moved on to Johannesburg and dispersed.
I went to hunt for Mthernbu, and found him relaxing at home. When told him what had happened he insisted somebody had been sent to the appointed place. When I asked him when we would leave the country, he did not know. I told him that the Cape Town comrades were safe, and I would report to him daily for information about departure arrangements.
I had decided not to tell him where I was and where my comrades were. I had lost all confidence in him.
The day we left, I discovered that the rest of those going had been bundled together in one house. If there had been a police raid, all except those from the Western Cape would have been arrested in one foul swoop. It was, in my opinion, a totally unnecessary risk.
The last of Mthembu's blunders - and the worst - was when he collected two extra people to fill up the combie (minibus). They were obviously not ANC and just curious and adventurous because somebody had told them they would be trained to shoot firearms. This was breaking security on a big scale, amazing for someone who was a senior cadre of the movement.
Mthernbu was arrested while some of us were out of the country and we were told that he broke down under torture. Of course, torture by the police broke many people, but in the case of someone who had committed so many blunders already, we were not surprised.
There were two kombies taking about 40 of us on the first stage of our journey. They drove through the night towards the west until we had almost reached the South African border. Near the border we got out and walked through the bush to an appointed place inside Botswana, where we were met by Comrade Mpho with an open truck, in which we were to be taken to the Zambian (then Northern Rhodesian) border.
Mpho was from Botswana, but while living in South Africa he had become a leader of the ANC. He is now a prominent member of Botswana's parliament.
In 1963 Botswana was still the British Bechuanaland Protectorate and, although the colonial officials were pro-South African regime, some of the police were not - and did not seem very strict in their policing. We were in Botswana for more than 24 hours without being molested, though suspect they knew we were there.
During those 24 hours we suffered a bit. Days were very hot, but nights were freezing. We wore only light clothing and really froze when the temperature fell.
We reached the Zambezi river in the early morning. The plan was to cross on the first ferry, before the officials started work, but once again there was a contact problem. An ANC comrade called Sam Masemula was supposed to be on the first ferry from the Zambian side, and we were to join him- When the ferry came in he was not there, but we decided to cross anyway and hide in the bushes on the opposite bank until he came.
We hid the whole day. It was hot and we were thirsty. We were very close to an abundance of water in the river, but could not move from the bushes for a drink. Police drove up and down constantly, as they had information that a group of South Africans had crossed en route for military training. We heard this from a friendly young black Southern Rhodesian foot policeman who saw us. He supported what we were doing and had no intention of informing on us.
As the day wore on, we realised something had to be done before nightfall. We decided to sacrifice Mark Shope, sending him on a bus to Livingstone to look for comrade Sam Masemula, and for transport to pick us up and drive us to the railway. We would not board the train at Livingstone, but would go on to the next station, Zimba. Mark was chosen for several reasons. He was darker than the rest of us, and could more easily pass as a Zambian, but also he was generally experienced and had travelled the route through Zambia before, so he was familiar with Livingstone.
At about 5.00pm the police van came, picked up the friendly policeman guarding the ferry landing stage, and the patrol went off duty for the night. Now at least we could drink from the river while anxiously awaiting Mark's return. If he did not come back, we knew we would have to walk the 50 kilometres to Livingstone in total darkness: there were no lights on that road.
At about 7.00pm comrade Mark arrived with a truck, even though he had not managed to locate Masemula. We were elated with his success and climbed aboard for Zimba station. When we passed Livingstone station we saw it was swarming with uniformed police - our failure to contact comrade Masemula may have saved us, and frustrated the police operation. If the police had caught us, the Welenski regime would have returned us to South Africa.
At Zimba station there were no police to be seen, and we boarded the train with no problems.
The line of rail, as it was called, ran from the Southern Rhodesian border at Livingstone to Lusaka, the capital, and on north to the copperbelt. It was a continuation of the line from Cape Town, through Southern Rhodesia - at one time it was intended to go from the Cape to Cairo.
It was narrow gauge and the trains were moving slowly. The journey from Livingstone and Zimba to Lusaka took all night. Midway through the journey our optimism began to wane. We discovered that Masemula was on the train, but he would not talk openly to us. He managed to indicate, though, that the police had planted plain clothes officers on the train to look for us.
When the train stopped at Kafue, just south of Lusaka, in the early morning, uniformed police boarded and the plain clothes men were able to point out some of our party, especially those with lighter skin. They were arrested and taken off. Some of us started picking up the babies of Zambian women, making out that we were their fathers, which seemed to work. The police left us alone and the train continued.
It was only a brief respite. We were imprisoned in the train and were supposed to get off at Lusaka, the next station. Language was a problem; we could not ask the Zambians to help us because we could not communicate with them.
At Lusaka the same police were waiting for us at the ticket barrier, and on the other side we could see our comrades inside the police van. It was pointless trying to hide. The police rounded us up, and awaited instructions from their headquarters in Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia. They were not sure what to do with us.
This confusion gave Masemula time to contact Zambia's liberation movement, the United National Independence Party (UNIP). They immediately sent two leaders to us, lawyer James Skinner and Sikota Wina. They quickly took charge of the situation, which was a big relief. We did not know what to do in this foreign country, so far from home, where we could not speak any of the local languages. Skinner wanted to know why the police were keeping us there. The answer was that they were waiting for instructions from their headquarters:
"We are detaining them," they said.
Comrade Skinner replied that it was illegal to detain people without charge:
"If you want to detain them you have to arrest them," he said.
That was a trap, as he explained to us later. The police had no right to arrest us but had to give notice that we were entering the Federation without permission and therefore must leave within a certain period. If we failed to leave the country in time, then we could be arrested for failing to comply with the law. He wanted to pressurise the police into falsely arresting us, which they did.
We found it disconcerting that they arrested us by touching us on the shoulder and asking us to get into the van. In South Africa they just pushed you into a van, or beat you in. Policing in the Federation was different. We were actually treated like human beings.
Skinner followed us to the station and briefed us. He said the court would release us the following day but could re-arrest us as we would have been in the Federation for nearly 24 hours by then. He said we were not to worry as they were organising to counteract that eventuality.
The last briefing by the lawyer was that he had applied for the court to sit the following day - this would be a test case. If the first one of us was found not guilty, it meant we were all free, but UNIP would have to come in and whip us out of the Federation as soon as humanly possible. We would have to select one comrade to go to court.
It was my turn to be sacrificed by the group. Sikota Wina and James Skinner briefed me before the court proceedings began. They said UNIP had organised no less than 200 people to be there that morning and, as soon as the judge declared me free, I should disappear into the crowd.
The plan was that the crowd would appear excited by my freedom and move towards the centre of Lusaka, crossing a roundabout opposite the supreme court. There would be a car moving slowly in the opposite direction, a door would be opened and I should jump in. A comrade would identify the vehicle for me.
The plan did not work out quite as planned because two fat policemen followed me, and outside the court presented me with a warrant for my arrest. I threw the paper in their faces but they grabbed me and dragged me towards their car.
I decided not to resist until one let go to open the door. With only one policeman holding me I was able, with one hand free, to punch him in the stomach with all my might.
As he was not expecting this reaction he fell and his colleague, seeing the hard blow I had delivered, did not hurry to get hold of me. I fled into the friendly crowd and eventually reached the car which sped away. Meanwhile the reinforced police were chasing the crowd, which ran in the opposite direction toward UNIP headquarters, only to find later that I was not among them.
When my car finally stopped at a house in Chilenje I was surprised to find all my comrades there. They had with them the property which had been taken from me in prison, including my watch and belt.
That night UNIP provided five cars with drivers who took us along the main road -entirely a dirt road - to Tunduma, the border post between Northern Rhodesia (Zambia) and Tanganyika (Tanzania).
About a kilometre before the border we left the cars to walk through the bush across the border, as we had done between South Africa and Botswana. The empty cars continued through the border and picked us up again in no man's land. We crossed into Tanzania openly, and went into the immigration offices to register ourselves and our organisation.
To all South Africans fighting the struggle for freedom, UNIP was a great organisation. International solidarity was a real issue for it and its leaders. They helped us when they were still struggling for independence themselves, and suffered untold damage later because they would not co-operate with the Ian Smith regime in Southern Rhodesia or the South African regime.
Their economy had been geared to integration with the countries to the south, and they crippled themselves economically trying to break free of those links. More than that they suffered bombing and commando raids and shed blood because they sheltered us. South Africa needs to erect statues to Zambians, especially to UNIP and their great leader Kenneth Kaunda.
We drove on to Mbeya, the first big town in Tanzania, where we boarded a train to Dar-es-Salaam, the capital.
I stayed there for three years, and then on and off for several more years, and found the people wonderful, from government officials to humble villagers.
I never saw any violence. I saw people arguing and excited, but they never hit each other as people in South Africa did. They were very kind to us. They have a popular word in Swahili, their language - karibu. It means "welcome", and in any house in Tanzania we were always welcome.
We did not have a chance to enjoy the beautiful country and scenery of Tanzania on that first journey, because we travelled overnight on the train and arrived at Dar-es-Salaam in the morning. What struck us initially was that some women dressed in black from head to toe. Coming from violent South Africa we thought they were in mourning, perhaps there had been massacres. But it was their religion - Islam, which Africans inherited from Arabs.
The ANC had an office in Dar-es-Salaam, which was regarded by the Tanzanian government as an embassy for the oppressed people of South Africa. ANC officials met us at the station and transported us to a huge colonial house on the outskirts of the city, a really beautiful place bordering a forest. There we met the first group who had left South Africa.
We were issued with bedding and each day were provided with food. Groups took turns to do kitchen duty. Comrades were arriving almost every week in groups of 10 or more, and soon a second house was needed.
The first house was named after Albert Luthuli and the second after Nelson Mandela.
The houses were provided by the Tanzanian government then one of the poorest countries in the world.
The ANC office had an enormous task, organising all this, and they did it very efficiently - we never starved. Comrade OR Tambo ensured that everything ran smoothly, and he kept in contact with us, visiting every morning to see how we were. He had time to give us individual attention, which we needed in a foreign country.
As the number of exiles grew, and offices were opened elsewhere, this sort of attention became impossible. Even so, OR was always ready to listen to problems and to try to help. No one was unimportant to him. Another important characteristic which made him such a great leader was his democratic way of working. He did not issue arbitrary orders: he argued and persuaded. He was part of the struggle at every level, including sharing dangers at the front line.
It was at this time that OR suggested we change our names, to protect those we had left behind, and ourselves. It proved to be a wise suggestion. Some of us chose names we thought would enable our people to guess who we were, if our deaths were reported. I took the name Zola Nqaba, the names of my two sons.
The ANC's external mission office in Dar-es-Salaam was also efficient in arranging for us to move on for training. By the third week we were put into groups and flown to different countries in Africa - Ethiopia, Egypt, Algeria and Morocco. Most of us moved to one of the socialist countries. The Soviet Union took the greatest number, and I count myself lucky to have been one of the members of the first group to go there.
The making of a guerrilla army
A party of 40 left Dar-es-Salaam in the early evening on a regular Aeroflot scheduled flight for Moscow. The first stop was Khartoum in the Sudan, where it was strikingly hot when we got out ~ we thought we must be standing in the exhaust of the plane!. Then we flew via Cairo arriving in Moscow at 9.00am. It was June, and warm and sunny - a surprise, as we expected Russia to be freezing.
Moscow Airport was the biggest we had ever seen, and when we remarked on this we were told Aeroflot was the biggest airline in the world. We were treated as VIPs, not having to go through immigration. Officials sorted out the formalities before we boarded a small bus which was waiting for us. Everything was strange and new; even flying had been a first for some of us. Driving into town was also a shock. Cars had the steering wheel in the wrong place, and drove on the right.
We were divided into two groups of 20. I was in the one led by Mark Shope. It included Chris Hani, and a young comrade called Lambert Moloi (Peter Bonyo), from the Transvaal. We three remained together for most of the next seven years.
We were taken to a gigantic house on the outskirts of Moscow, which we were told had belonged to the Tsar. It had a high wooden fence around it, and inside the accommodation was comfortable, with two people to a large room. Windows were triple glazed and the place centrally heated. Fortunately the windows could be opened.
We were welcomed by a Soviet colonel and a major and told we would follow a six month officer's training course. On the first night there was a welcoming party, at which we were introduced to our instructor. The next day we were issued with warm clothing and sent for medical check ups. We noticed with interest that the doctors and dentists were all women.
We were very well looked after - too well in fact. We were given four cooked meals a day, all with meat. Even we South African meat lovers could not take this, and we had to ask for the meals to be reduced to three.
The teachers were senior army officers. Some of them had been guerrillas in the Patriotic War. The course was intense and thorough, and many of those trained in the Soviet Union became senior cadres in MK. Some, including Lambert Moloi, are now generals in the new South African National Defence Force.
All instruction was in English. We were taught military strategy and tactics, topography, drilling, use of firearms and in guerrilla warfare. We also covered politics, with heavy emphasis on skills needed construction and use of explosives, vehicle maintenance, feeding a mobile army and first aid in the field: everything necessary for survival under guerrilla conditions.
We were in the classroom for eight or more hours a day, five days a week, and half day on Saturday, for the first two months. Then we started practical work, trying to apply what we learned in the field. We learned to carry with us only what was essential and to pack our loads so they were properly balanced.
We learned a lot from our mistakes. One night we laid an ambush in a wrong place, having miscalculated our position, and terrified local workers by firing at them as they cycled to work, thinking they were our enemy in disguise. The Soviet officers had to go to the village and apologise for us.
Before we finished the course, Mark Shope was called to Prague to represent SACTU at the World Federation of Trade Unions. He replaced Moses Mabhida and Wilton Mkwayi, who were needed at ANC headquarters in Tanzania. After Shope left I became leader of the group.
The Soviet officers thought it important for us to see something of the culture enjoyed by Soviet people and almost every Saturday afternoon we went on excursions to theatres, opera, cinema, the circus, museums and other places. These were completely new experiences for us - we had never seen any of these things before. We came to appreciate them greatly, even ballet and concerts. There were many beautiful theatres and concert halls, all subsidised by the State. Tickets were cheap and so all could afford to go and the audience was largely working class people.
Lambert Moloi has a fine baritone voice, and took to singing in the style of the Soviet opera stars we heard. What we called "bellowing" made us laugh, but he pleased our Soviet comrades.
We also visited factories, where we were told the managers were elected by workers On the walls were pictures of outstanding workers, again chosen by other workers. We saw a democratic culture in factories.
At that time unemployment was unknown in the Soviet Union, and we were told that new technology would lead to shorter working hours for the same wages. Every factory had a creche, and there were good child allowances, to encourage women to have more children without being at a disadvantage.
The buses surprised us. There was a multitude of them, so you never had to wait long, and there was no conductor: you put money in a machine as you got on. The underground was beautiful and clean, with paintings on the walls and very cheap - five kopecs to travel anywhere.
When our six months were up, we were ready to return, but there was an attempted coup in Tanzania and we were delayed for another six months. We spent the extra time revising what we had learned, with more cultural trips and sports, including skiing. And of course, we found other ways to pass our time!
We had been instructed not to learn Russian, but some did, and also found their way to local liquor stores. I did not learn Russian, but even without it I was able to find myself a girlfriend among the staff who worked at our house.
Just before we returned to Tanzania in June 1964 we were invited to choose between three locations for a holiday. Our group chose to go to Leningrad. We went by train to that beautiful city. We marvelled at the old buildings and were taken to historical sites like the battleship Aurora, and a house used by Lenin near the Finnish border. We were amazed by the light nights: it was only one hour before the sun rose again.
We flew back to Tanzania with warm memories of our Soviet hosts and comrades. It has become fashionable to pretend that everything about the Soviet Union was rotten. No doubt we were taken to some show places, and there was much we did not see. But we were not fools. We saw many things which were good, particularly for working people, and were very impressed by public facilities. We also came to respect the Soviet army, and the internationalism which made the authorities take the side of black people from the other end of the world, and offer care, training and so much material help.
Perhaps they were weak on some aspects of democracy, but they certainly did more for our struggle for a democratic South Africa than any of their "democratic" critics.
Our original two groups were reunited at the airport and we flew back to Dar-es-Salaam. We were met there by Mzimkulu Ambrose Makiwane, a national executive member of the ANC. Some of us knew him already, Chris Hani in particular, for it was Mziinkulu. who had recruited Chris to the ANC when he was a senior and Chris a junior student at the University of Fort Hare.
Makiwane accompanied us to Morogoro and briefed us on our next assignment. He said he had been appointed camp commander of the military camp we were going to establish at a place called Kongwa, near Dodoma in Central Tanzania.
His deputies were Joseph Jack and myself, the camp commissar was Chris Hani, chief of staff was Mjojo, chief of logistics Isaac Makopo, chief of communications Walter Mavuso, and intelligence chief Albert Moloi. Our duties were to prepare the camp for the return of other groups after training.
We slept in Morogoro and left by truck the following morning for Kongwa. The road was rough and wet, but this time we saw more of Tanzania than we had the first time. We enjoyed the journey, especially seeing lions, zebra, wildebeest, cheetahs and other animals as we travelled.
We noticed that the local people, the Masai, had kraals in which both people and animals slept at night. The reason was to protect stock from lions and other predators.
At Kongwa we found only two deserted buildings. Inside was a kitchen, toilets and showers, all in need of cleaning and repair. It was obvious no one had lived there for years. Much later I found out that the place had been part of the British post-war government's ill fated scheme to grow ground nuts. The mother of Eugenie Cheesmond, one of the South African comrades whom met in Manchester, had worked there as a nurse.
Transport, tents and other requisites which came with us to Kongwa had been supplied through the Organisation for African Unity (OAU). Some came from African states, but most had originated in the Soviet Union or other socialist states, with the OAU acting as distributor. Our international friends again!
We pitched our tents and they were our homes from then on, two men to a tent. They were pleasant and cool to sleep in. We cooked on open fires, and got organised to set up an army camp.We were divided into three platoons, and work plans were drawn up. Each platoon took turns carrying out duties, so we knew all aspects of camp life. Every third week the duty was catering and cooking, and other duties included erecting more tents, digging latrines, making the buildings usable and repairing the water supplies. Of course we continued with military exercises, laid out training grounds and reconnoitred areas suitable for training manoeuvres.
In one of the buildings we set up a small clinic staffed by a comrade who had been trained as a medical assistant. It was a useful and much appreciated initiative. Comrades preferred to be treated there rather than at a hospital in town.
Later we planted food crops and some of us made our own little gardens. Tanzania is very fertile and everything grows fast, even fruit trees. We soon had paw-paws ripening. Later we were grateful for the food we grew because at times, when the camp was full, supplies were inadequate. We would have been hungry if it were not for our fruit and vegetables, and Russian tins.
Each month the numbers at the camp increased as soldiers returned from training. Some who had been trained in Africa were sent to the Soviet Union to gain more experience, and contribute to training there. Big camps had been set up in Odessa, as well as the Moscow sites, and men were starting to return from them. Among them was Ronnie Kasrils, at the time of writing deputy minister of defence in South Africa.
He was the first white in our camp. He was just another private soldier, living like us, dressing like us, eating the same as us, and we found it amazing.
Other people may not understand our surprise, but South Africans will. We had never seen whites living on an equal footing with us, let alone accepting orders from black commanders. We all thought highly of Ronnie.
By the end of the year there were 400 or 500 people in Kongwa. The three platoons had swelled to three companies, and the duties we rotated now covered the full range of military and guerrilla training, including underground work, security, adult education, politics and communications, as well as the shooting range, drilling and manoeuvres.
We also rotated responsibilities within the companies, taking turns to command.
There were many lively arguments. Some comrades had received regular military training and others had training in classical guerrilla warfare. Many debates arose about tactics between the two groups. Route marches through the bush, each man taking his own arms and supplies, were necessary to resolve the disputes by experience.
Other arguments kept cropping up between those trained in China and the Soviet Union, reflecting the current political positions of their trainers.
Among the second group to arrive were seven women: Brenda Ndlovu. Olive Ndlovu, Popie Maluleka, Gladys Sibanda, Rachel Mthonyene, Jackie Molife and Daphne Zwane. They had all been on the course for officers. More women arrived later, directly from home. Caster Mvernve and Ethel Shezi were first, immediately followed by Toko Dlamini, Tozi Kawula and Addie Zuza.
I regarded them as the most important section of the detachment, because the ANC had to learn to apply the policy of non-discrimination in the army as well. Above all, they would be very important in bringing more women into the armed struggle at home. They were pioneers, the first women in a field which had formerly belonged to men.
It had been daunting for African men to leave home for strange and foreign lands, to undergo training and return home underground. How much more daunting for the few women.
They had the additional challenge of joining a crowd of men who may have professed to be progressive politically, but many of whom had backward attitudes towards women. These attitudes showed in the camp. There was, for instance, resentment at being instructed by women when it was their turn to be in command. They mocked the women's high voices when shouting orders, sometimes pretending they could not hear.
Another, more subtle, attitude was the argument that women should be protected from "dirty or dangerous work", and in any case would be hampered on missions if they were menstruating.
But it was the policy of the ANC and the camp that everyone in turn must command, and that all should be treated equally. It was educational for the men to experience this at Kongwa. It also built the confidence of the women, some of whom went on to fill leading positions in the ANC.
When the women and some men arrived at Kongwa directly from home, we felt we had sufficient knowledge and experience to train them ourselves, without sending them to other countries. We had established a training department and it was a good exercise for us to plan a training programme from scratch. That was what we would have to do when we eventually reached home.
The people from South Africa had arrived by various routes, at a time when communications from the ANC at home had become very difficult. Some of the newcomers were unknown to anyone. The leadership decided to try to screen them, as it was certain the enemy would try to infiltrate agents into our ranks. We now know they did this. It was a difficult task, and so was the question of what to do if we suspected someone was an agent.
We did what we could, and if we had serious doubts about a person's security - or even about their discipline - all we could do was sideline them as far as possible.
One day we had a visit from the leadership to tell us Joe Modise had been appointed MK's commander in chief. Nelson Mandela had been commander in chief until his arrest in 1962, followed by Raymond Mhlaba, who had been among those arrested at Rivonia, and then Wilton Mkwayi.
I do not think Mzirnkulu Makiwane was happy with the new MK structure, and he decided to resign from the army. He had been a good choice as camp commander: he was politically mature and strong. But he had his weaknesses.
He was fond of going out drinking in town. When he came back drunk at midnight, he would wake us up for an emergency military exercise. He also sjamboked - whipped - soldiers who broke discipline. This was not uncommon in South Africa, many schools did it, but it should have had no place in MK. Probably the rest of us in the leadership were at fault for not taking him up on these weaknesses.
Jack became camp commander for a short time, but was recalled to Morogoro. When he left I replaced him.
By now, the Tanzanian government had decided to relocate other liberation movement camps to the Kongwa area., Frelimo came first, with Samora Machel as camp commander, then SWAPO and later Angola's MPLA. We got to know these comrades very well.
We had problems, of course, which in every respect were made worse because we did not adjust our tactics sufficiently to changing objective circumstances.
Kongwa had been intended as a transit camp for people on their way home. From the outset it should have been obvious that there were likely to be delays infiltrating people into South Africa. The racist regime was tightening security constantly, making it increasingly difficult for people to move about undetected or be hidden underground. The difficulties escalated with the arrest of almost all the internal ANC and MK leadership at Rivonia in 1963.
The arrests seriously damaged the underground structures and co-ordination, upon which the survival of guerrillas depended. A few people had managed to enter the country since then, but they had been caught. Perhaps they did not appreciate that they were already rather out of touch with life in South Africa or maybe they were unwilling to put themselves in the hands of people remaining in the underground structures, most of whom were inexperienced. Whatever the reason, there was now no established route which would allow hundreds of guerrillas to return home and function inside the country. We were in for a long wait.
In spite of this, we continued to run the camp at Kongwa on a permanent alert, as if we were going into battle at any time. We made no allowances for normal life, and tried to maintain strict discipline - that was our policy.
The soldiers got bored, and inevitably developed hobbies which got them into trouble. Security became difficult as people wanted to get friendly with villagers and socialise with them.
Lack of money also caused havoc, leading to theft and the sale of stolen goods for alcohol. At first, security staff were able to recover stolen goods from the village and get the purchaser to come to morning parade to identify the men who had sold to them.
In the long run, those doing the selling worked out how to counter this. They told the purchaser to identify the person at the head of the parade - usually the chief of staff - as the person who sold to them. The ANC does not choose drinkers as chief of staff, so the whole thing became ridiculous and the parade collapsed in laughter when this happened. That was the end of identity parades!
We tried to resolve the problem on Monday morning parades. We emphasised the need to stay on good terms with the locals, and to not drink so that we would go mad. I reminded the soldiers that these were fixed rules of behaviour in camp, and anyone who ignored them would be chopped. Because I often said this, I was given the name Zembe - the axe!
Another problem which made me use words like "chop" very often was that every Monday morning many of our comrades had upset stomachs. Whether the local home brew, called Pombe in Swahili, was contaminated, or whether it was just that people drank too much do not know, but I was worried about the health of our soldiers.
The name Zembe has stuck with me, and even now people seem to like it. So did I. Combined with the first name Zola, I became ZZ, which is still widely used. It was a bit of a joke, because I never had to seriously punish anyone when was camp commander. People respected me and I had sympathy with their frustrations.
The worst disciplinary problem was just before left Kongwa. Frustration led to a group of comrades from Natal stealing trucks and heading south, to make their own way home. It was a hopeless proposition, of course, and they were intercepted within 80 kilometres and brought back. The commander of MK, Joe Modise, national commissar Moses Mabhida and met to discuss how to deal with the comrades concerned.
Joe Modise was clear that there would be a formal commission of enquiry, with charges of desertion and theft. Moses disagreed. He argued that they were going home, so they were not deserting. I had to agree with Joe. I sympathised with their frustrations but this was the army. Whatever their intentions, they had gone without permission and taken camp property - it was desertion and theft according to army regulations.
A commission was appointed, and I am not sure of the outcome because before it reported I left Kongwa. However, Moses Mabida obviously resented the fact that I did not agree with him. I believe this influenced him later to misrepresent a discussion we had, with serious consequences for me.
The reason I left Kongwa after nearly two years was because the political leadership had decided to send me to Cuba to represent the ANC at May Day Celebrations in Havana.
It was an interesting experience. After May Day the international delegation toured the provinces of Cuba. One of the places we visited was the big International School where there were South African children, among others, although the majority were Cuban. They studied international issues, with the objective of being of use to the oppressed people of the world when they finished their school and university studies.
The Cuban children were of all shades, from white to darkest black, and colour seemed to make no difference at all. The same applied to all aspects of life in Cuba, and was impressive to a South African like me. I felt it helped that they all spoke the same language, Spanish.
I was also very interested in Cuba's rural policies. Their aim was to have the same standard of living in the countryside as in towns, with the same educational, health and entertainment facilities available to country people. They believed this was the only way to reduce the trend of people moving to town. I was sorry I could not speak Spanish and so learn more about this exciting country during my brief visit.
When I flew back to Tanzania I was told that instead of returning to Kongwa I was to see OR Tambo about a new assignment. I was happy to be meeting OR, because I had great respect for him.
It had been he who had travelled around South Africa in 1960, when we knew the ANC was about to be banned, to explain the next phase of the struggle. I remember him saying:
"No surrender, we continue."
These words kept coming back to me during later difficulties. OR explained that the ANC's national executive committee had decided he should let the world know what was happening in South Africa, and that he should arrange political and military training for people whom the leadership would send out. Cape Town was his last meeting. From there he was driven by Ronnie Segal to Botswana and then went on to Tanzania.
His external mission was established, under the control of the home political and military high command until in 1963, when the home leadership was arrested at Rivonia. OR then found himself responsible both for the external structure and for trying to recreate internal structures in South Africa.
The great man took on these tasks and succeeded beyond anyone's hopes. Exile politics is difficult. Cut off from the masses, many good leaders lose their way, and rivalries and jealousies have split many organisations, such as the PAC. OR Tambo's way of working avoided that. He had time for everyone, and won support by friendly argument and persuasion, not coercion. This often took longer, but it enabled the ANC outside to remain intact through difficult years.
It was a terrible tragedy for our struggle when he had a stroke and passed away. What a comrade, comfort and friend he would have been to Nelson Mandela through the testing years after 1990.
Alliances
When I met OR Tambo, he said he had called me to discuss the changing military and political situation in Southern Africa and his thoughts on the subject.
South Africa had increased its military strength and border controls and was working with colonial powers in Mozambique and Angola, collaborating with and supporting Smith's Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) in Southern Rhodesia, and trying to tighten its grip on South West Africa (now Namibia), creating a strong buffer zone around its borders. Botswana - though recently independent - was very weak and remained dependent on South Africa in many ways, so it too was forced to be part of the buffer zone.
At the same time, the liberation movements in Mozambique, Angola, Rhodesia and South West Africa were already fighting guerrilla wars in their homelands. The ANC had long standing friendly relations with Frelimo in Mozambique, MPLA in Angola, ZAPU in Rhodesia and SWAPO in South West Africa, and OR was thinking of proposing that these be developed.
His reasoning was that we should send units into those countries through which we needed to pass to get home: that is, Mozambique and Rhodesia. I welcomed his ideas, which would give our soldiers exposure in the field and open the possibility of reaching the South African border.
OR explained that there would be few problems in joining with Frelimo, since Tanzania had a common border with Mozambique, but that going through Zambia to Rhodesia might be more difficult. He was intending to work with ZAPU leader Joshua Nkorno, who was close to Kaunda, to get the Zambian president's agreement. Even then operations in Zambia would have to be underground for security reasons: in fact, he thought it would be safer to keep all operations underground, even in Tanzania.
The first steps would be to acquire more arms, and to move them to the potential fronts. He told me he was negotiating for more war materials from some African states, and that Tunisia was waiting for us to send somebody to specify exactly what we wanted. He gave me the assignment of going to Tunis immediately to indicate what we needed, and to report back to him.
I did this, choosing equipment our people knew best, from the Soviet Union. The Tunisian government flew the material to Organisation of African Unity representatives in Tanzania. We nearly did not receive the equipment because someone in Dar-es-Salaam thought the equipment would be useful for the Tanzanian army, but OR was able to sort that out.
While the leadership were discussing the details of OR's proposals, Moses Kotane, treasurer general of the ANC, gave a job to myself and Erie Mtshali, a former trade union leader and MK man I had worked with since Kongwa opened. Moses asked us to work out for him the logistics, including costs, of one of the next steps: transporting the materials to Zambia. We did this, and OR gave us the go ahead to get moving.
The tasks were quite complicated. Erie took responsibility for smoothing our way through the Tanzanian and Zambian customs and immigration controls at Tunduma. He went to Tunduma and made friends with all the officials, both dining and politicising them. Sometimes he had to bribe as well. The Tanzanians tended to be on our side from the start. They understood more about freedom fighters than the Zambians did at that time. Erie was excellent at persuading them and only once did we have any trouble crossing the borders.
We were joined in the assignment by Lefty Mabula, an MK man and an experienced driver who knew all about big trucks. While Erie kept the frontier officials happy, Lefty and I drove the truck loaded with arms to Lusaka, then drove it back empty.
The road was terrible most of the way, a dirt road with a potholed surface. In Zambia it was known as the Hell Run. It carried a constant procession of big trucks, as it was the main artery from Zambia to the outside world. After Smith declared UDI and set up his racist regime, Zambia decided as far as possible not to use the road or railway going south through Rhodesia and South Africa.
On the Hell Run you either had to push hard and stay in front where you could see the road or wait until the dust had settled from other vehicles, otherwise you had to drive blind. In the rainy season there was no dust, but you had to drive through a sea of mud. Lefty became very skilled at driving in these awful conditions.
The one time we had a problem was when Zambian officials insisted on searching the truck. Quickly I told Lefty in Xhosa to get ready to turn and drive back to the Tanzanian border post, then I got down from the truck and let the Zambians see that I was carrying a pistol. This diverted their attention away from the vehicle, and while they were arresting me Lefty was able to pull around and go back.
After my arrest I was allowed to phone our office in Lusaka and the ANC representative was able to get me released. He also cleared the way for Lefty to return from Mbeya, where he was waiting, and pass through without interference. I rejoined the truck and we moved on into Zambia.
Each time we reached Lusaka we handed over the vehicle to a group, led by Chris Hani, which was responsible for distributing and hiding the arms in Zambia. It was not our business to know where they were putting them: we just waited in the ANC residence in the suburb of Lilanda. When the truck came back empty we were ready to return to Morogoro. The Hell Run trips with others vehicles continued long after I moved on to my next assignment.
The next stage was when the ANC leadership decided to open up another two fronts, in addition to the home front. One would be working jointly with Frelimo, led on our side by the chief of staff, Mjojo, and the second would be in alliance with ZAPU, led by the commander himself. I will not say anything about the Mozambique campaigns, as I was not involved at all. I can only describe our campaigns in Rhodesia with ZAPU.
A joint ANC-ZAPU high command was established which operated at two levels: political and military. The political level involved Tambo and Chikerema, the political head of ZAPU in exile. The military level comprised Joe Modise, commander of MK, and Akim Nelhlovu, his ZAPU equivalent, myself as chief of operations and Dumiso Dabengwa from ZAPU. Our chief of staff, Mjojo, and our commissar, Chris Hani, were also involved
We needed to focus on four main areas ~ personnel, reconnaissance, logistics and intelligence, and groups were enlisted to work on each of these.
Personnel discussed how many people were needed and decided to open a camp for joint exercises so that we could learn each other's strengths and weaknesses. The camp was established near Livingstone.
A reconnaissance team was appointed, led from our side by Lambert Moloi. The team was to open another base near Livingstone on the Zambezi River, to familiarise themselves with the river and suitable crossing places. Two experts in swimming and canoes worked with them. They had to learn everything relevant to crossing, including what animals were around and how they reacted to people, which people crossed the river, and every detail about the river and its banks. They had to cross it themselves and find out what lay within the first eight kilometres or so on the other side. When their report was completed it was submitted to the joint command.
The joint logistics group looked at supplies, including ammunition and food, and transporting them..
The intelligence function - who could be relied on across the river etc ~ was left to ZAPU.
The joint command met weekly to receive reports from the teams and to produce reports for the political leadership. Early reports were of increasing numbers of South African military personnel operating alongside Ian Smith's troops in Rhodesia.
Both Mjojo and myself believed in being in close touch with the front line and we took part in reconnaissance operations, crossing the river. This took me into the Zambezi valley and I kept getting arrested by the Zambian Police.
ZAPU comrades had their own identity documents, were known to the police, and found themselves having to rescue me too many times. Joe Modise suggested they get a British Rhodesian passport for me. This was done and they named me Ntambo - a Zimbabwean Xhosa surname - as a member of a specific family from the Bembesi area. Later, after Zimbabwe became independent, I visited the family with my second wife. I was taken to the local court to be registered as a local son and am still widely known by that name.
The ANC's main objective was to go through Rhodesia to reach South Africa. Of course, it would have been ideal if this could have been done without encountering the Rhodesian army, but it was obviously unlikely and we knew that in any case fighting the Rhodesians was likely to involve fighting South African troops.
When the guerrilla war was launched in Rhodesia in 1967, there were South Africans fighting on both sides.
Our joint plans involved crossing the Zambezi River at three different points, near Livingstone in the west, near Lake Kariba in the centre, and near Feira in the east. The first crossing was to be near Livingstone.
When the date approached for this crossing, OR Tambo wanted to see for himself what the situation was on the ground. He was worried about the arrangements, anxious that we had invested so much time and money in the project that we had forgotten about the people involved and were exposing them to too great a risk.
He insisted on crossing the river with me to satisfy himself that the reports were correct and the preparations adequate. After crossing, he suggested a rope be put down the sheer rock on the Zambian side and across the gorge where we were to cross, to improve safety for the soldiers.
This recommendation was incorporated into the plans, and a few days later the first group crossed. OR was there on the Zambian side, commanding the operation up to that point.
The group which crossed was joint ZAPU and ANC. ZAPU commander John Dube (Charles Ngwenya) was in command, with Chris Hani as commissar. When they split up later, Chris would take over command of the ANC soldiers.
The crossing went without incident, but was very difficult. We started in the evening, and it was about 5.00am before the last person crossed. Some of the reconnaissance team had to remain in Rhodesia until darkness fell again before they could return and report that the group was on its way.
Our reconnaissance had shown there was an enemy base near the route the guerrillas intended to follow, so it was expected there would be an early battle. The enemy's reconnaissance had picked up the group's movements, but they were arrogant and used to shooting unarmed people fleeing. They paid for this arrogance with heavy losses in the fight at Wankie and our group moved on. taking a lot of arms and food from them.
After this the group split, the ZAPU guerrillas going further into Rhodesia and most of the ANC going south. heading for a route through Botswana. Part of the group had taken the train and were involved in further skirmishes near Bulawayo, where heavy casualties were again inflicted on the enemy.
The Boers will never forget those battles in west Rhodesia, which showed them - for the first time this century - the determination of our people, and their toughness when properly trained, organised and armed. MK became a frightening prospect to the Boers: a well disciplined, well officered army, under firm political control.
As the joint ANC-ZAPU campaign developed, the MK people remaining in Lusaka were warned to be more vigilant, to disperse or guard their camps and residences more intensely, as it was known that Boer commandos were in Zambia. Worse, Rhodesian aircraft were carrying out sorties over Lusaka, infringing Zambian airspace and attempting to shoot some of our bases outside the city.
When I had first arrived from Tanzania, Chris had introduced me to a British woman who was working hard for the ANC, raising money at the university and trying to organise training in first aid for our military comrades.
Her name was Joyce Leeson and she was a public health doctor living and doing research in Lilanda, near the ANC residence. She was then married to Ronald Frankenberg, a professor at the University of Zambia, and their home, first in Lilanda and later in Matero, was open to ANC people.
Chris, Lambert Moloi and others, including myself, often visited. It was a shared joke that at lunchtime, when a meal was being eaten by the family and the four or five research workers, an ANC Landrover was likely to drive up, just in time for its occupants to join in.
When MK people were instructed to disperse for security reasons, I went to stay with these friends, and used to rest there during lulls in the Zambezi and Wankie campaigns.
Joyce went back to England in 1969, where she received a letter from the South African government informing her that, unlike all other British passport holders, if she wanted to go to South Africa she would have to apply for a visa. She had no intention of going - in fact she was heavily involved in boycott campaigns - but presumably the government knew of the support she gave us, and was trying to punish her.
Joyce and I remained very close, even after she left Africa. Later, when we were both free, we got married.
After the first crossing we went on to open up the other two fronts, at Kariba and near Feira, to scatter the enemy and reduce their concentration in the west. Both those areas were good for ZAPU to have permanent bases, as there was no one living near the river on either side.
The main forces of the liberation armies crossed at these two points. Bases were established on both sides of the river for logistical purposes. Every evening we took people across, and further forward bases were established by them from which to work with local people.
We found that South African Buccaneer fighter planes were patrolling the Zambezi river valley. This exposed the inadequacies of British government policies in Southern Africa. They had called for sanctions against Smith but continued to allow the supply of arms, including aircraft, to South Africa. The aircraft were then immediately used to support the Smith regime.
The vegetation was dense in the valley and we were confident that the fighters did not see us. In fact, looking back, we probably became a bit too relaxed. I can remember the noise we made when we shot game for food, instead of trapping it. Whether this was the reason, or whether some of the local people ZAPU were working with were informers, we do not know, but somehow the Rhodesian troops became alerted to our presence and started reconnaissance in the area. However, we continued our work, crossing as necessary.
One day I nearly died there, as a result of an accident. A patrol disturbed a nest of hornets which stung me so badly that I lost consciousness. As I collapsed I ordered the others to proceed, which they did, except for the medical assistant who stayed with me. I soon came round but was very weak for about 30 minutes, after which I was able to move again.
I crossed back into Zambia the same day and set off for Lusaka to deal with some logistical problems, leaving Benson Tsele, senior commissar of the joint armed forces, in charge.
He decided to cross into Rhodesia that evening, without my permission, and was involved in the first battle on this front which the Rhodesian forces launched that night. We suffered casualties, and Tsele was killed.
It was a serious loss as he was an important leader. He was a brave man, unhappy that he was not across the river, and I think he took the opportunity to cross while he could. The excuse was that he wanted to speak to his commissar, but I suspect he intended to stay at the front, and not return.
The transport of ammunition was heavy and slow work, and the commander proposed we use donkeys to carry the loads. Two were acquired and we set about building rafts to take them over the river. Before we had finished, they both disappeared overnight without trace. We could only assume they had been taken by lions, and the "good idea" was abandoned.
During this period I was working very closely with Dumiso Dabengwa, a very capable and a good person to work with, as indeed were all of our ZAPU comrades. He cared a lot for his guerrillas at the front, and was brave, not hesitating to cross the Zambezi in dangerous areas, checking the reports of the reconnaissance team and opening up new routes. He was liked by everybody. His career in post-independence Zimbabwe has been mixed. He did not agree to become an officer in the new "merged" army and spent some time in prison, but by 1995 had become minister of home affairs.
We had successes and failures. Some comrades died and others were captured. Those taken in Rhodesia were sentenced to death, but the death penalties were never carried out. Some of the first group to cross died at Wankie, others managed to make their way directly to South Africa.
Others went as planned into Botswana, and a number were captured by the Botswana police. They had been instructed not to fight in Botswana so put up no resistance, and were arrested and sentenced. They were given long sentences, but the ANC negotiated and succeeded in getting them released early and deported to Zambia. Chris Hani and Zola Nqose (Wilson) were among this group.
Young white South African conscripts who had been sent to fight with Ian Smith were killed by our guerrillas, but strict censorship stopped this from being reported in the South African press. It was reported to us by civilians that many of them were not happy to be fighting outside their own country. They found the heat and mosquitoes of the Zambezi valley intolerable, morale was at a low ebb, and they did not want to fight.
There were occasions when they allowed the guerrillas to pass without reporting them for three days. As they said, they preferred the Rhodesians to fight and be killed by us. At this stage, many young white men facing conscription into the South African army fled the country rather than fight for apartheid: some of them organised war resistance movements in Europe.
Difficult times
Late 1968 was the beginning of a difficult period for the ANC. When the heroes of the Wankie battles were released from prison in Botswana, they were very critical of what they found on their return to Zambia.
The armed struggle seemed to be in a lull, trained MK people were being neglected and a gulf seemed to have developed between most of the leadership and the rank and file. Even Kaunda noticed something was wrong and referred publicly to ANC leaders, who were usually seen in hotel restaurants, as "chicken-in-the-basket freedom fighters".
Chris Hani and his comrades expressed their criticisms loudly, and the leaders could not take this, so they appointed a commission of enquiry. The commission decided to expel Chris and the others.
Chris took this badly. He regarded me as his mentor, and came to discuss his options with me. His thinking was that if the present ANC leadership did not like him and did not want him in the organisation, perhaps he should forget it for a while and get on with his legal studies.
I reminded him that we were fighting for the oppressed people of South Africa, not for exiled leaders, and that some comrades had already given their lives for that fight, under his command. Chris accepted these arguments, and of course things were soon put right. There was uproar throughout the ANC, because most people agreed with the criticisms made, and Chris and the others were reinstated. The turmoil continued until a national conference was called at Morogoro in April 1969.
We continued to transport war materials as necessary, and eventually this led to disaster. Chief of staff Mjojo and Wilson (Nqose) were transferring supplies from our main base in the east to the western camp. This meant going through Lusaka, and they arrived there late at night. They decided not to continue, as they were likely to be stopped and searched if the foreign registered Landrover was seen in a sensitive area after dark.
Wilson had a key to the room in the servants' quarters behind Ray and jack Simons's house in Roma, which they had given me to use. He knew I would not be there, so that was where they went.
Unfortunately, shortly before this Ray had quarrelled with a neighbour who had dumped some smelly manure close to the Simons's fence. She had gone as far as calling in a council official to complain, and the neighbour had retaliated by complaining of noise from the Simons's, caused by foreign registered Landrovers driving in and out at all hours of the day and night.
The council officer had taken this seriously and informed the police. At the time a Non-Aligned Nations conference was about to be held in Lusaka, and the authorities were sensitive about security. The Simons's house was close to parliament, the conference venue, and the police put a watch on the house. They were watching when Wilson and Mjojo drove the Landrover in. They followed, searched the vehicle and found the arms, and arrested them at once. They also searched the Simons's house and arrested Jack.
As soon as I heard I tried to get them released, unsuccessfully. Wilson and Mjojo were convicted and spent some months in Lusaka prison, but Jack was soon free.
Up to that point I had always been Ray Simons's "blue eyed boy". The incident changed her attitude entirely. Her complaint was that I had not informed her of what was taking place - of course I had not. I could not reveal military operations to anyone, even if I had known, although in this case I did not.
Jack Simons understood the whole thing, and took his wife to task for her attacks on me, which I was told were often repeated in my absence. I had great respect for Ray, who had done so much for trade unionism and political struggles in South Africa and for me personally, but her attitude and behaviour to me at this time and subsequently really disappointed me.
The operations on the Rhodesian front continued, and as operational chief I was required to write reports for the commander. In Lusaka I had met a couple from Cape Town, the Moltenos, who were working at the University of Zambia.
I had known the man since he was a child, because his father was a staunch opponent of apartheid, and I felt sure I could trust them, so sometimes I asked them to type my confidential reports for me. Unknown to me Tennyson Makiwane, then ANC chief representative in Zambia, was also using them ~ in his case for home contacts - and unfortunately they told him they were doing work for me.
Tennyson reported to the commander in chief that I was showing confidential material to people who, according to him, I did not know properly. As a result a commission of enquiry was set up consisting of Tennyson, the commander Joe Modise and Duma Nokwe, assistant general secretary of the ANC.
I was not called to discuss the issue or answer questions. After the commission, Joe Modise said it had been decided that I should be suspended as operational chief and sent back to Tanzania for six months for a breach of security.
Now it was my turn to be tested for my commitment to the ANC. Would I be a member until I died, or would I allow myself to be driven out?
I left Zambia at short notice in November 1968 and landed up at Morogoro at the residence where OR Tambo lived. I explained to him what had happened. His response was typical. He urged me to forget about the blow and carry on: he would give me jobs to do. That is exactly what I did.
Later I was told there may have been more to the episode than I realised at the time. Tennyson had had it in for me since the death of Benson Tsele in the Zambezi valley. Tsele was a close relative and he blamed me for the death. Tennyson was also known as a schemer and operator. Tom Nkobi had complained about him in the past. Tennyson later betrayed the ANC and deserted to the Transkei. Probably he continued scheming there, because later he came to a sticky end.
In Morogoro I enjoyed the work OR gave me. It was a refreshing break from the pressures and anxieties of commanding at the front. I also had some time for gardening and once more planted paw-paws. Best of all, I enjoyed spending time with the great leader, OR.
He used to initiate outings for comrades up to Morogoro Mountain. It was high, and after leaving at 6.00am it would be noon before we reached the peak. As we ascended, we were entertained by the unique black and white monkeys living there.
OR organised these walks because he realised that for people like me and others who were used to being active, it was frustrating sitting in offices all day. They also gave us an opportunity to think and reflect, and we always came back with our morale raised.
There was another good thing too, at the end of 1968. Joyce drove through Morogoro, accompanied by Lefty. She had finished her job in Lusaka and was on her way to put her car on the boat at Dar-es-Salaam. I was able to go down to the sea with her, and we had a few days holiday as she waited for her plane. We saw in the New Year, on the waterfront at Dar-es-Salaam, with the boats in the harbour all lit up, sounding their sirens.
My suspension ended in time for me to participate in the Morogoro conference in May 1969. It was a dramatic event. The delegates removed all the old leaders except Tambo and JB Marks, and determined new strategies for the struggle. The newly elected NEC reinstated Chris and the others.
After the conference I returned to Lusaka and was soon back in the Zambezi valley, mainly in the east, continuing operations. We were still maintaining supplies for ANC people in Rhodesia, and were crossing and giving support to ZAPU people. We were not crossing any more of our own people at the time: the new leadership was working on alternative routes home.
In 1971 Chris and others were sent to Lesotho, as a new base for contact with home. Shortly after that I was instructed to go to East Germany to join a group on a refresher course, as once again plans were being made for infiltrating people back home.
I had been in Tanzania and Zambia with MK for seven years. It had been a time with ups and downs, but one of the big positives was that I had met and worked with some of the great national leaders of our movement, whom I had seen at the Treason Trial but only really knew by reputation.
I have already written about OR Tambo, but I want to add something about two other giants: JB Marks and Moses Kotane.
JB Marks had been the founder and president of the Mineworkers' Union. He led the strike of 100 000 miners in 1946, facing charges of conspiracy afterwards. He was a Treason Trialist, and devoted his life to the movement. He was an all-rounder, able to speak to everyone in a way they understood. Old people, young people, church people - whoever it was, he always had rapport with them.
Because of his versatility he was always the first to be sent to the camps when there was trouble. He was like Walter Sisulu in temperament, calm and persuasive. I remember once while I was camp commander, some soldiers had grievances and demanded that leaders went to listen to them.
Uncle JB, as everyone called him, arrived at night and in the morning the soldiers found him washing alongside them, greeting them in tsotsi taal - township slang. He did not want formalities: he just lay down in the shade among different groups and soon got to the bottom of their problems. He left them happy.
Sadly he took ill in Morogoro. He was sent to Moscow for treatment but died soon afterwards. What a loss to South Africa.
In Morogoro I also got to know Moses Kotane, national treasurer of the ANC and the first black general secretary of the SACP. He had been involved in the miners' strike and was later charged because of this, but in many ways he was a very different kettle of fish from JB Marks.
I was then taken to Moses by OR to discuss the finances of transporting arms from Morogoro to Zambia. If OR had not taken me I would have had difficulty in seeing him. In fact, we all knew that if you wanted to see him without an appointment, you had to go into Uncle JB's office opposite and tell him your mission. If he was convinced, he would push open Moses' door and push you in, saying "this comrade needs to see you, Mos"
Moses was a strict, disciplined person. The ANC's money was completely safe with him-
Eric and I had worked out what we needed for our mission, to cover petrol and food, and he gave that to us with extra for emergencies. We set off on our first journey with the arms and found, when we returned to Morogoro, that we had not needed all we had taken so we gave back to him what change was left.
Moses was completely amazed and delighted. He said it was the first time ever anyone had handed back money. Everyone else, leaders and all, has finished every penny. We understood then why he was so strict. He warmed to us after that and we discussed many things with him, including Communist Party issues.
His tendency to trust nobody with money led him to work alone and, justified as it may have been, it caused a problem. When he had a stroke, the ANC's finances were a mystery to everyone else. Fortunately he recovered sufficiently for a while before he died to be able to hand over to JB, who became acting treasurer.
Moses Kotane was a great man and his financial strictness was essential in our organisation: people tend to be careless with money.
When I left Africa for East Germany it was agreed it would attract less attention if I went via London, so I was able to see Joyce for a few days.
Once in East Berlin I was driven to a nearby camp where I found an old comrade, Dingo Hashe, in charge. He invited me to share his room, and that same night he confided that morale was low among the comrades. They were complaining about being sent yet again for retraining. They were repeating the warning which had been given by our old comrade, Gumede, that there was a danger the ANC would continue sharpening the spear until there was no spear left.
The same sorts of things were being said in Africa, and I understood their frustration about delays in returning home. just the same I thought it was worthwhile to be refreshed, and at Dingo's request I agreed to talk to them. Next morning I told the comrades that the East Germans had offered to help and the ANC had accepted the offer, so whatever we felt, we should put our hearts into the training. If they had problems we should ask one of our leaders to come and listen to them, not complain to German Democratic Republic comrades. They seemed to accept this, and the atmosphere improved.
However, GDR officials had already seen there was something amiss, and were determined to find out what. They organised a party, with plenty of liquor. Dingo and I made speeches, and after a time said people should go to sleep. But the Germans said no, let those who want to, stay and finish up the food and drinks.
We "old men" went to bed, and the following day were told that some of our young comrades, who were drunk, had later made speeches complaining about retraining. The GDR leaders asked for someone senior from the ANC to come to discuss the matter
Moses Mabhida was delegated to come to see the group. Instead of talking to everybody, he called people one by one, presumably to ask each one what his problem was. When it came to me, I reported what had happened and what I had said since my arrival.
Then I took the opportunity to ask some questions. I said I assumed we were on our way home and I wanted to know if there was machinery ready to receive and control people getting home, at least until they were acclimatised. I was asking this because of frequent reports of people being arrested on return.
His reply was that there was no machinery. He added that some comrades did not want any machinery, they wanted to establish their own.
I had experience of underground work and it seemed to me that this approach was asking for trouble. On arriving back home there should be pre-arranged machinery to hide you, feed you and direct you, at least for an interim period, until you became fully aware of the current situation and could agree with local comrades what your priorities should be and where you should be based.
In my case, I had been away for eight years, during which many changes must have taken place. I was well known at home as a regional leader - to local people and to the police - and if my return were known it would cause excitement which was sure to reach the authorities. I was already a wanted man, with a gaol sentence hanging over me, so I could easily be arrested. Those in touch with me could be arrested too. I told Moses I did not like people returning without a place underground being prepared for them.
Moses did not respond: he was a man who never responded to what people said. The immediate outcome of his visit was that the retraining was cancelled, and we were informed by the GDR people that the group was to be dispersed.
They told me that since I had a British (Rhodesian) passport they had been told to get me a ticket to London. I was the first to leave. I was to go to the ANC office in London and await further instructions.
I did not really know why I had been sent to London rather than back to Africa. It soon became obvious that the ANC office in London had no assignments for me and my morale began to ebb.
This was another testing period. I was living in a small flat in the Tufnell Park area of London, alone and morose in a strange country which was getting colder and darker as winter approached. I found I had begun talking to myself, so I bought a pipe to hold in my mouth so that I could not talk alone without knowing it.
When I first went to the ANC office I found unacceptable conditions. It was dirty, and young people were using it as a place to drink in the evenings. Reg September, chief representative in London, seemed to find it hard to intervene, perhaps because the people concerned were Africans.
I had no such problem and called them to a meeting. I told them that the office belonged to the oppressed people of South Africa and that their abuse of it showed disrespect for our people. Their behaviour had to stop immediately. It did. In those days even difficult young Africans had respect for their seniors.
I felt some satisfaction, but Reg did not say anything about it. In fact he did not say much to me at all. It seemed strange that the chief representative did not ask why I was there, or tell me what he wanted me to do in the office. I suppose he may have been told something he did not want to discuss with me. Or perhaps it was just that he was unconcerned about who came to the office as long as they did not ask for money from his budget.
I asked for nothing. I was determined to be independent, and this may have been a mistake. I was able to do this because, when I was really low, I met a South African family who gave me a great deal of help.
They were the Marcuses - Nathan, Molly and their children, Beverley, Jill and Roy. They were running a small business in Knightsbridge preparing sandwiches and selling them to office workers. They invited me to stay with them and I worked in the kitchen from 6.00am until 10.00am every morning before going to work in the ANC office. For this they paid me wages and my insurance stamp, even though I worked such short hours. I was indebted to them, and we became very close, especially Jill and I.
I was not keen to ask for money from the ANC because it had always been my view that as much as possible of what was raised should be sent home, and that people in exile should not eat it up.
But now I think that if I had asked for funds, someone would have been forced to decide what to do with a man who had given his life to the movement, and who had been involved in the armed struggle for eight years. Then I would have known where I stood. But, unusually for me, I did not seek a confrontation. I just got on with whatever small jobs I could find to do in the office, or spoke at meetings for the organisation.
At weekends I went whenever I could to Manchester to visit Joyce, often staying with comrades of hers, Elsie Booth or Frank Cartwright and Maggie Ohren. Joyce could see I was disillusioned, but encouraged me to stick it out and do what I could.
It was not until later, when I was working for SACTU, that I discovered more about what was behind my being dropped by MK and the ANC. After the events in East Germany, it seems that Moses Mabhida returned to Africa and reported to the NEC that I refused to go home. I do not know why he did this, because I had asked questions and expressed doubts, but I never refused. Perhaps the issues I had raised were embarrassing ones which the leadership had not faced up to. Or perhaps it was just that he still resented my siding with joe Modise against him all those years ago in Kongwa and was taking the opportunity to discredit me.
It was John Gaetsewe who told me later about Mabhida's report. As soon as I could I went to OR and asked him why I had not been informed of the charges and given an opportunity to answer. He shrugged it off, saying you cannot question the reports of other NEC members. Clearly he did not believe it himself, because he continued to involve me in top level work, like accompanying him to Lesotho.
I was disappointed that I had been a victim of arbitrary and unjust condemnation, particularly as I still think my questions were important ones.
What hurt especially was that some people at home were told I had deserted. Fortunately some found out that this was not so, when I started meeting people from home in Lesotho, Botswana and Zambia during my work for SACTU. When I got home in 1991 my prestige was high, and I was elected to the ANC leadership in the Western Cape, giving up only because of my health.
I report these events not because of sour grapes, but because I know that many other people who happened to disagree with a leader found themselves sidelined, without being approached and asked for explanations.
In my opinion the strength of organisations depends on members being able to think for themselves and say what they think. I was noted for doing that, to extremes perhaps, but I still think it is preferable to being a "yes" man or woman.
It could be argued that arbitrary judgements were bound to be made in the stressful conditions of exile and armed struggle. But they should have no place in the new South Africa. I write this to encourage the ANC and SACP and other democratic organisations to be open and fair with people who have proved themselves loyal. They should encourage members to take part in important discussions in the people's organisations, as well as in the government of the country.
To return to London in 1971. Sitting there doing some office work made me think deeply.
Through all the difficult years, since leaving home and indeed for many years before, the movement had been my first priority. My own interests, and those of my family, had come a poor second.
MK people were forbidden to have contact with those at home, and the only news I had heard of my family all this time was second or third hand. Joyce had managed to get in touch with my brother Temba in 1969, and had received letters from him. The information he gave was vague and guarded, although he had said the children were well. He had been harassed by the police ever since I had left the country, and he was rightly concerned about security and avoided saying anything which might arouse police suspicions.
I had also heard some alarming rumours from other sources, and I was becoming desperate for reliable news.
For a year I was given no assignment, and in fact had no communication at all from the MK or ANC leadership. I knew I would always be loyal to the ANC, but since they obviously did not intend to make use of me at that time, I decided to use the opportunity to try to get more information about my family at home.
I knew I should not do that while working in an ANC office, so I took the decision to leave London and go north to Manchester, where Joyce was.