Chapter 19 - Consequences

The escape had profound consequences for many people: for our comrades who stayed behind it meant three years of unhappy confinement in the condemned section of Pretoria Central; for political prisoners in other jails around South Africa it served as an inspiration and a boost to morale; for a prominent member of the ANC it meant an international kidnapping; for Sergeant Vermeulen it meant a five-month-long trial to prove his innocence; for several comrades in South Africa and my brother it meant detention, torture and jail; for our enemy, the apartheid rulers, it meant a terrible embarrassment and defeat; for Alex, Steve and me it meant freedom and the chance to throw ourselves back into the struggle against apartheid.

Our comrades who stayed behind were moved out of Pretoria Prison in March 1980 and transferred to 'Beverley Hills', the colloquial name for the ultra-maximum security condemned section in the Pretoria Central complex. There they remained for nearly three years while Pretoria Prison was refurbished and its security improved. They were moved back in November 1982, after more than half a million Rand had been spent on upgrading the security arrangements.

The old prison was barely recognisable. What had been the pos was turned into the administrative offices and what had been the administrative offices were cells. The yard was completely concreted over and divided into four separate areas. In the middle was a sentry post and running to it were four passages like a giant cross which gave access to the four yards. The cells were fitted out with new furniture and the beds turned around so that the warders could see the prisoners' heads from the passage window. The passage windows were turned into solid panes of glass - no more opening slats through which key-cranks and smuggled newspapers could be passed. Everywhere electrically-operated doors had been installed, operating from a central console. The passages were equipped with closed circuit television screens, and metal detectors and X-ray machines were fitted for screening visitors and their belongings. Worst of all, the comrades were divided into groups - newly arriveds and old lags - and right-wing 'political prisoners' formerly housed at Central were moved into another section of the prison.

Escaping was made much more difficult - but not, I believe, impossible. Expensive security equipment is only so good as the people who operate it and gives a false sense of security to those who rely on it. Doubtless the warders who first operated it did so with much enthusiasm, like children with a new toy. As the months and years go past, operating the equipment becomes routine and a chore; the warders get bored looking at the TV monitors, everything operates smoothly and vigilance slips. Meanwhile, the prisoners are - or should be - looking for the cracks in the system. Eventually they learn how it operates, how they can operate it, how they can sabotage it, how they can beat it...

Political prisoners on Robben Island and in other prisons were elated by the news that a group of fellow political prisoners had defeated the enemy and made it to freedom. When the Robben Island prisoners first heard of the escape it was in the form of a rumour. Later when it was confirmed, the victory was celebrated with toasts all around. Security measures on the Island and in other prisons housing political prisoners were stepped up with extra locks and chains placed on the doors. These only served to heighten morale and confirm that the prison authorities were shaken by the fact that they had been outwitted.

On the 12th of December 1979, the day the escape was discovered, the Director of Internal Propaganda in the ANC's Department of Information and Publicity in Lusaka, Zinjiva Nkondo (Victor Matlou), was kidnapped as he was entering Lesotho. He was seized by South African police when his scheduled Lesotho Airways flight from Maputo to Maseru was forced to land at Bloemfontein due to engine trouble. He was arrested at the Ladybrand border post while he and the other passengers were being taken to Maseru by bus, and was held in Bloemfontein under the Terrorism Act.

The timing of the incident more than suggested that it was a desperate attempt by the regime to show the ANC that if some of its members managed to get away others would be seized in retaliation. Perhaps they were also thinking that they could exchange him, as an ANC 'big-fry', for the three of us 'small-fry'.

The ANC condemned the act of piracy and in a statement said 'if Pretoria is allowed to get away with this unprecedented violation of international law, no air traveller in Southern Africa will be safe'. The case was taken up with the United Nations and the OAU and a Supreme Court action was brought against the Minister of Police by Nkondo's brother on the grounds that the detention infringed the territorial integrity of Lesotho. The application was dismissed with costs in March 1980 but in May charges were dropped by the State and Nkondo was escorted to the Lesotho border by South African police, and released. While in detention he was regularly threatened with violence and subjected to long sessions of interrogation.

Sergeant Vermeulen appeared in court for the first time on 5 May. He pleaded not guilty to the charges of 'aiding terrorists' or alternatively, with aiding three people to escape from the maximum security wing of Pretoria Prison.

Vermeulen shocked the court by telling how he was forced to make a statement that he had assisted the three of us to escape. After his arrest he was interrogated at the prison for several hours by high-ranking security policemen. He was then taken to Pretoria Central Police Station where he was shut in a room with two policemen. They took off their jackets, loosened their ties and said: 'We don't care if you're 57 or 87 we'll beat you up till you talk'.

Under this and other pressures Vermeulen agreed to make a 'confession' to a magistrate. He said that during his time as a warder he had seen many awaiting-trial prisoners with bloodied faces and been told by them that they had been beaten by the police.

His 'confession' was brilliant. Despite having to suck it out of his thumb on the spur of the moment, it was so realistic that it took his defence team five months to prove that it could not have been possible. It seems that he must have been sitting alone at night for 11 years thinking how he would escape if he were a prisoner. Or did he perhaps have some help from the security police?

In short, Vermeulen wrote in his statement that Alex had approached him a number of times to help in an escape attempt. At first he had refused, but finally agreed when he was offered R200. The conspirators agreed on a place to leave the money for him to collect. On the night of 11 December a Sergeant Joubert had brought two awaiting-trial prisoners to the prison at 6.10 p.m., entering through the yard gate as usual and going to the window of Vermeulen's office. He, Vermeulen, was given a bunch of keys to open the key cupboard. He took out the section keys and quickly went up to the first floor to let us out of our cells.

Back on the ground floor he had made us stand out of view of Sergeant Joubert and the awaiting-trial prisoners while he took them to the top floor where he locked them up. After letting Sergeant Joubert out into the yard he went back into his office where the three of us were waiting.

Sergeant Vermeulen then opened all the other grilles and doors on the way to the front door. He had opened the electrically-operated door by pressing the button in his office. After opening door nine he had said to us that there was one more wooden door ahead which we had to break open ourselves as he was scared that the guard on the pos would see him.

He then went back to his office, locked the section key in the key cupboard and gave the bunch of keys containing the key to the cupboard back to Sergeant Joubert through his window. Needless to say he had never received the R200!

The prison high-ups must have known all along that this was a fallacious story, but failed to say so and provided Vermeulen's attorney with so little information about the layout of the prison and the security arrangements that it was almost impossible for the defence to prove its case. Clearly the prison authorities wanted a scapegoat and hoped that Vermeulen would not be able to deny his statement. They certainly weren't going to help him do so.

Many of the warders gave evidence in the trial. Some extraordinary tales came out which showed a severe lack of security and discipline, quite at variance with the image of themselves they usually tried to put across. A Sergeant Badenhorst, who took over duty from Vermeulen on the night of the escape, explained that he arrived at the prison just before midnight. He noticed that the outside light at the front door was off and went to switch it on. When he did so he noticed that the door was slightly ajar. He opened it and saw that the electrically-operated door was also open. Surprised, he went down the passage and shouted to Vermeulen through door six. Vermeulen replied that everything was in order. Badenhorst then checked the visitor's waiting room, the toilet and the Captain's office and found nothing amiss.

He went to a Sergeant Joubert in the 'non-white' section and told him about the open doors and then made his way into the prison in the usual way through the yard. When Vermeulen opened the door to let him in Badenhorst asked again if everything was all right and Vermeulen again said yes.

After Vermeulen had gone off duty Badenhorst, still suspicious, checked all the cells. He saw a 'body' in each which satisfied him that everybody was there. The dummies had done their job! He repeated his checks throughout the night, in the normal way. At 5.30 in the morning he switched on the lights to wake the prisoners.

At 5.45 a.m. the first of the day staff, a warder named Van der Merwe, came on duty and was given the keys to enter through the front door of the prison. He noticed that the locking plate of the front door was bent back but did not question it. It was only when a Sergeant Pieterse arrived at 6.45 a.m. that questions began to be asked. Van der Merwe said he had assumed that the day before locksmiths had worked on the door and had not finished the job.

After rechecking the door the warders were able to see that it had been broken open. Suspecting something wrong the bell was rung for the prisoners to stand to attention in front of their grilles (this was not actually true as we found out later that the cells were opened at the normal time). At cell 17, my cell, there was no one standing to attention. Badenhorst opened the grille and saw that what appeared to be me was still sleeping. He pulled back the blankets and found that a dummy had been placed in the bed.

Sergeant Joubert explained to the court why he had not acted on the report that the front door had been found open: he had understood Sergeant Badenhorst to mean by a damaged door not one that had been broken open but one that was faulty. He said that it sometimes happened that workmen did not manage to finish repairs to locks in time each day and left the job incomplete. Sergeant Badenhorst had told him that he had reclosed the electrically-operated door and that no people could enter the prison.

The defence attorney, Ike Swartzberg, revealed after this that Joubert had told Badenhorst not to enter the damages to the front door in the night-book but to report them the next day. The open door was also not reported to the street guards. After revealing these and other irregularities the quality of evidence declined as witness after witness tried to cover up for their slackness and incompetence.

A warder named Beukes told how certain tools were missing from Alex's toolchest after the escape, but that it would have taken ingenuity to smuggle them out as we were searched every day as we left the workshop! This same warder was the one who was on duty when the bottle of spare keys was dug up in the yard. He could not say if Alex had made the keys as Alex was 'not a good carpenter'.

Locksmiths testifying could not decide whether the electrically-operated grille would remain unlocked after the release button was pressed or only so long as it was being pressed. One claimed that the electrically-operated door was damaged after the escape, only to be contradicted by another that it was not. One of these 'experts' lied to the court that each of the cell doors was locked with a different key (only half of the cells used two different keys, as explained earlier). It was also claimed that the locks in the prison were 20 years old and worn out. They could consequently easily be 'blocked' by stuffing paper in the bolt hole. To prove this claim a (faulty) lock was produced as evidence of how we could have got out. When the defence lawyer was told to hold his finger on the bolt the key was turned four times and the lock clicked as if it were locking, but the bolt only moved slightly and fell back into the lock. If it was not Vermeulen then it was the fault of the locks. No credit was to be given to the ingenuity of the escapees.

Halfway through the trial Stephen received a letter from Vermeulen's attorney asking him to make a statement on Vermeulen's behalf. The letter was sent to Stephen because he had written to a South African newspaper to explain that Vermeulen was innocent and that the prison authorities were using him as a scapegoat for the failure of the prison's security arrangements. Alex and I were not pleased that Stephen had written the letter and were therefore keen that he should ignore the appeal from the attorney - it would not look good for a former political prisoner to be defending an apartheid jailer. As a compromise, Stephen sent a short sworn declaration stating no more than that Vermeulen was innocent of the alleged offence of helping us escape.

The trial dragged on for five months with Vermeulen eventually being acquitted. Stephen's letter was one of the factors which contributed to this, but it was mainly due to the many inconsistencies between the facts of the escape and the claims in Vermeulen's 'confession'. Although Vermeulen had claimed that he had not opened the front door with his keys because he feared being seen by the pos- warder, he could have done so as no one would actually have seen him doing it: he could simply have asked us not to open it until he was out of sight. The damaged front door with its bolt still protruding proved that he did not unlock the door and that he had just adapted his story to fit this fact. Also, the wooden keys that were found were shown to be perfect replicas of the prison's keys and to be able to open the doors for which they were made. The prisoners would not have had to go to all the trouble of making these and removing tools from the workshop if the plan involved Vermeulen doing all the unlocking. Vermeulen's attorney was also able to prove, by timing himself doing exactly what Vermeulen claimed he'd done in his statement, that it would have been impossible to release us in the short time it was alleged that he did.

The defence accused the chief investigating officer of withholding vital information which could have been used to show that Vermeulen's statement would not have been accepted by the court. It further claimed that the State had not proved its case and that the evidence had been contradictory. Vermeulen had not been told his rights when pressurised into writing his statement and had done so under duress.

In an interview after the trial Vermeulen spoke of his '26 days of hell in a prison cell'. Before he was granted bail he spent 26 days in the very same prison he had guarded for 11 years. For the first time in those 11 years he was forced to consider what it was actually like to be on the other side of the doors that he locked and guarded nightly.

'I thought I was going to be in jail for life. I don't know how those men stand it. They are disciplined, strong men. The cells were so small. I thought I was going mad', he confessed. He admitted that he had never wondered how the men he guarded coped with their lives. Now he had come to admire the way they conducted themselves. 'They were still so strong and disciplined after all those years. They must lead a hell's life'.

Vermeulen referred to the political prisoners as 'the communists'. 'The communists are very clever people. I was surprised when they told me three of them had escaped. I felt as though a bucket of water had been thrown on me. I couldn't work out how they had done it', he said.

His experiences of the previous 10 months, starting on the 12th of December 1978 when he was awakened at his home and told of the escape, had convinced him that he never wanted to see a prison again. He had decided to retire early.

Vermeulen added that he was grateful for the letter written by Stephen to his attorney confirming that he had not helped in the escape. He then spoke to the interviewer about the three of us: 'Moumbaris never used to say good morning or talk to us warders. He was also a tense man. Jenkin and Lee were much nicer. I remember how fit those three were. They used to train every morning for half an hour, running round the courtyard. Maybe they were training for their escape'.

The nicest prisoner he had guarded in the prison was Bram Fischer, a former central committee member of the South African Communist Party who died in prison in 1975 while serving a life sentence. 'Fischer was very keen on rugby. We used to talk about it a lot. I felt sorry when he died. He was a gentleman. He was the leader of the prisoners. When he died Denis Goldberg took over as leader. He took over everything. He even spoke to me about rugby like Fischer did. He was a much quieter man, though very polite', he recalled.

Despite having formed a distant relationship with Fischer and Goldberg and despite admiring them for their self-discipline and ability to withstand 'a hell's life', he could not be like them: 'They are communists who want to destroy South Africa.' Relief at being acquitted had wiped out any bitterness he had felt for the police: 'I forgive everyone for everything, because I am a free man now.'

At the end of 1981, in the wake of a mass upsurge of resistance to apartheid, South Africa was faced with a severe wave of repression and a great number of people were detained. Among those detained was Prema Naidoo, one of the people who had helped Stephen hide and flee from the country after the escape. Prema, a great-grandson of Mahatma Ghandi and a member of the famous Naidoo family, one of the most persecuted families in the history of South Africa, was detained in connection with the part he had played in the successful anti-South African Indian Council campaign. This was to discourage people from voting for the segregated political structure created by the regime for South African Indians. Prema was very badly tortured and administered 'truth-drugs' which unfortunately made him divulge some information regarding his part in assisting Stephen.

As a consequence, six more people were detained in connection with the escape between the 5th and 8th of January 1982. These were: Esther Levitan, a member of the Black Sash (a women's anti-apartheid organisation); Shirish Nanabhai, a former political prisoner and friend of Stephen's; my brother Michael; his common-law wife, Cathy Hunter; my former girlfriend, Daphne Smith, again; and Stephen's former boss at the University of the Witwatersrand, Ralph Wortley.

The detentions at first appeared to be connected with the detention of Stephen Kitson, the son of Dave Kitson, who was arrested shortly before for making a sketch of Pretoria Prison after visiting his father. Stephen (Lee) had never revealed who had assisted him in his flight, but as soon as my brother was detained it was obvious what was happening. Michael had only helped Stephen in a small way by providing money and by taking him to a hotel that first night. The cops were not to know this of course and subjected him to most brutal tortures to find out who else had assisted and what else he knew about the escape (i.e. who had helped Alex and me). He was subjected to electric shocks while blindfolded and handcuffed but when they failed to extract anything more than the little he knew, they gave up. Shirish was similarly tortured, but the others not. Daphne and Kathy were released nine days later; Esther was admitted to hospital for a respiratory complaint but released on the 4th of March together with Ralph.

Michael, Prema and Shirish appeared in court on the 5th of March and were charged under the Prisons Act with assisting a prisoner to escape. Their appearance under the Prisons Act came as a relief as it had at first appeared that the three were to be tried under the Terrorism Act which had a statutory minimum sentence of five years' imprisonment. They were not asked to plead and only Michael was granted bail - no doubt because his skin was the 'correct' colour.

The three were sentenced on the 1st of April to three years' imprisonment, with two years suspended for three years - an effective one year sentence - for 'harbouring a prisoner after escaping'. Prema shouted 'Amandla' on hearing his sentence and there was a scuffle with an orderly who attempted to shove him down the stairs to the cells below. The court found that Michael and Shirish had been moved to assist Stephen because they were close friends, while Prema had assisted because he was a friend of Shirish.

The State had called for long sentences in order to deter others from harbouring or concealing escaped prisoners. The defence had appealed for suspended sentences as Stephen had escaped without the knowledge and assistance of the accused who found themselves in a unique situation which was never likely to occur again. It was impossible for them to refuse assistance to a friend who just appeared on the doorstep.

Michael served six months and was then granted parole. The other two, in a separate prison of course, served the full period. Doubtless this discriminatory treatment was because they were black, but also because of their previous convictions.

For the apartheid authorities the escape represented an event of utter embarrassment and defeat. This was reflected in the way they responded after the discovery that three prisoners had gone missing.

The first thing they did was to surround the prison with a ring of police. What this was meant to achieve after the birds had flown is not certain - more than likely it was a panic response. Very shortly afterwards our descriptions were broadcast over the radio and our pictures shown on television and published in the major newspapers. Luckily for us these were not very detailed or accurate: 'All three are about 1.8 m tall [wrong], clean shaven, and have [relatively] short hair. Lee is strongly built while Moumbaris and Jenkin are thin [only me]. Moumbaris has black hair, Lee's is reddish and Jenkin's light'. Best of all, the descriptions said that we were dressed in T-shirts, blue prison shorts and tennis shoes. This obviously put many people off the scent because reports came in from all over the country from people who claimed to have seen us. Police launched a 'large-scale search' for Alex in Cape Town, of all places, after receiving a report that he had been seen parking a car in the city.

It was reported that the escape provoked one of the largest manhunts ever mounted in the country. Roadblocks were set up all over South Africa and all cars crossing borders were searched at border posts. At one stage, the queue of cars on the South African side of the Oshoek border post (into Swaziland) stretched for more than two kilometres. Railway stations and airports were watched and helicopters used to observe sections of border known to be favoured by fugitives for crossing.

Speculation, rumours and false alarms were rife. After a few days 'informed sources' reported variously that we had been seen in Swaziland, Botswana, Mozambique, Zambia and Lesotho. These reports were only to be denied by the respective governments of those countries. Other reports 'confirmed' that we were still in South Africa waiting for the fuss to die down before crossing the border. There is no doubt that false reports emanating from the ANC office in London and from Marie-José in Paris served to lay a false trail. After a week when the police had more or less given up hope of finding us they issued an appeal to the public to help them in their bid to net the three convicts still on the loose: the public was requested to report to their local police stations should they see any of us.

Reports appeared about secret 'underground pipelines' and 'escape networks'. Then followed the stories of Joe Slovo's and the KGB's assistance, which in turn were followed by more sober 'theories' of how we had done it. The question could not but be answered why we did not free all the other prisoners. The Deputy Commissioner of Prisons saw no reason why we could not have opened the cells of the other prisoners in the same section. We could see no reason too...

Freedom for each of us meant much more than just release from captivity. Within ten days of my arrival in London Robin and I were married - 'Daughter's marriage to a terrorist came out of the blue', reported one South African newspaper on Robin's father's response. Two years later Alex became the father of a daughter, Zoë, who was born - believe it or not - on 11 December, the second anniversary of our escape. All three of us were welcomed back into the ranks of the ANC and since that time, in our various ways, we have been doing our bit for the struggle.

By freeing ourselves we drastically reduced our sentences: Alex by five and a half years, Stephen by six and a half and I by ten and a half. Best of all, we got out by ourselves. We did not rely on the apartheid courts, we did not wait for remission, we did not wait for our sentences to run their course - it was all our own work. Much more satisfying! And the time saved meant that we could throw ourselves back into the struggle against apartheid sooner and with more conviction than our captors had hoped.

The escape was also an act of defiance towards the apartheid regime and their so-called legal system: a pair of raised fingers to their 'laws' and their 'judge'. We never accepted their judgements and sentences - nor their prisons - and escaping was the best way of telling them so.

In a way our escape was symbolic of the plight of black South Africans. They are imprisoned in the hell created by apartheid. And in the same way as we did not wait to be released from captivity, they will not wait to be 'liberated' by the apartheid rulers. They will do it themselves and in the way that they deem best. The 'reforms' being offered by the regime are not the keys to the front door, they are merely 'privileges' - an upgrade from 'D Group' to 'C Group'. The people are not impressed with these. What they want, like all prisoners, is their freedom. They will make their own keys and get out in their own way.

As we said in our Lusaka statement, for opponents of apartheid the struggle continues, even inside prison walls. With will and determination its supposedly impenetrable security barriers can be breached. In our small way, we had proved that the apartheid regime is not invincible.

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