A Coloured Heritage
I have no wish to enter into a quarrel over past and present idiotic questions of who and what are coloured people but let me say this, as many before has, we are a multiracial ethnic group who have ancestry from more than one of the population inhabiting the region including is the Khoisan, African, White and Asian, because of this combination of ethnicities coloured children within an immediate family may have been born with a variety of different physical features. We have an ethnic and cultural identity that comes from a very long history of our country that started with colonialism, slavery and most commonly mixed marriages, therefor our family ties that were brought about by mixed marriages and relationships allowed coloured people to be committed to their mixed families, there were those who grew up in a white culture and those who grew up in a black culture, eventually coloured people found themselves divided between the white and black political camps, let's go back to the year 1953 when the South African Coloured Political Organization (SACPO) was established and elected Alex La Guma (Defendant in the treason trial) as president and elected Reggie September (Politician & Executive committee member of the ANC) as their secretary, in spite of this new positive development, divisions in coloured politics proved persistent when the Coloured People National Union (CPNU) refused to join forces with the SACPO. 1954 seen the SACPO embark on a series of boycotts and protest, including the bus boycott to oppose the introduction of racial segregation in public transport. The boycott was followed by mobilization of the coloured opinion against the land tenure board, instituted to probe the application of the Group Areas Act and the group areas coordination committee was subsequently set-up under the chairmanship of R.E. Van der Ross (Anti-Apartheid Activist) it is documented that Coloured organizations lacked coherency and cooperation amongst themselves which were necessary elements to achieve victory over plight and tribulations brought about by the segregation and oppressive legislation of the white government therefore coloured people placed their loyalties unreservedly between the White and African camps, there were those who joined forces with the National Party and those who joins forces with the Labour Party to defeat the (SAP) South African Party led by Louis Botha in the 1924 general elections' they supported a one stream policy which envisioned conciliation between Afrikaans and English speaking whites, in pursuit of that goal they managed to entice significant Coloured support in the election cycle, by offering Coloureds a "New Deal" the deal involved, exemption from restrictions that applied to blacks and a general expansion of coloured political rights and economic opportunities, one of the oldest coloured political party the (APO) African Political Organization founded in 1902 and led by Abdullah Abdurahman tried to discourage coloureds from supporting the National Party by arguing that the NP had a history of discrimination and that their promise of the "New Deal" was merely an electoral ruse, he could not have been more accurate, when the National Party won the 1924 elections they disregarded the "New Deal" that was promised to them in exchange for their votes and a victory. 1953 the Coloured Peoples National Union together with the SAIC, SACPO and the ANC formed the congress alliance, the congress of the people, which adopted the Freedom Charter held in Kliptown in 1955 after the Freedom Charter campaign some leading members of the SACPO were arrested and accused of high treason in 1956, the SACPO became known as the Coloured People Congress (CPC) after the 1959 conference. The CPC actively participated in the National Day of Protest called on by the ANC following the Sharpville massacre led by the (PAC) Pan African Congress, after the governments state of emergency, following the massacre and subsequently banning of the Liberation Movements, some of the CPC leaders were arrested and some went into exile. After its dissolution in 1966 many of the CPC leaders in exile joined the PAC and the ANC 27 years in democracy and through all our past struggles and political loyalties power is gained by the ANC and again the coloured people are marginalized. Permit me to say how impressed I have been with the spirit of the coloured people who have prevailed, for the good of unity and the good of equality and with tears in my eyes I see that most coloured people has now recognized our right to be a strong nation and with my hand on my heart we declare unity amongst all races and desires only unity, our people know the horrors of racial discrimination whether you are Black, White, Indian or Coloured our one desire is to never experience it again.
South Africa was complex in the manner in which the apartheid government categorize coloured people this was done by means of skin color, language, hair, surname's and a wide range of inhuman ways of grouping our people but as cultures and as groups of coloured people were forcibly moved from their homes to areas proclaimed by the apartheid governments as non-white areas we changed the environment and the environment changed the nature of our culture. Coloured culture is clearly a unique culture it's not white it's not black it is a Coloured culture created by both Afrikaans and English speaking coloured people, therefore, by telling our story of who we really are and why It's chronicling our souls will speed up the healing process to our everyday lives. If you venture inside the coloured culture you may witness the detail of the human spirit reaching beyond the externals of our conditions as the proclaimed marginalized group yet we were liberated from slavery hundreds of years ago. socializing became the best outlet coloured people had to chronicle their own history knowing that our ancestors stories, struggles and their experiences are not widely documented or written into the history books therefore we have to make sure our legacy is not to be forgotten, our legacy is this very visceral form of defiance and the linguistic power of saying "ons biza nie" I will not be passive in my existence, I will be defiant in my existence, as much as we got the left overs that the apartheid government dealt us in our own country we transformed our lives into this beautiful alchemy like art that's how I see our culture it's beautiful and colorful. Times have changed but the pain not necessarily that's life's way of telling us not to do things to make us feel better but to do things in the way of embracing our culture. Let our generation be the shining example to our beautiful and recently neglected great country and to all of the people that we represent, that for maybe the first time in our history we are willing not to do what is in our own self-interest but to do what is best for our people and our country. I stand today with mixed emotions, with joy, but also with sadness knowing that so many died for the freedom of our people, what are we waiting for, the time is now!!! to stand together as coloured people and take our rightful place in society bringing together all cultures to make our country a tapestry of beauty as we did our own culture.
i found genealogy interesting when my grandchildren were given a school project to build their family tree then the obvious questioning about their heritage, culture and family history turned out to become a project for us parents and grandparents, my answers to their questions are normally vague considering my fragmentary memories and limited information that exist of our ancestors taking into consideration that old school coloured families were accustomed to secrets and lies due to the way of life under the rule and policies of the then all-white government, coloured families were historically conditioned by the need to survive in a society dominated by a single minority group. During my research, a process which involved conducting talks with my fellow mixed race people of all ages and racial backgrounds, I got a sense that attitudes were now shifting, so now my search will have to expand deeper into the lives of our mixed heritage family members history to find the truth because It seems like my family adopted the swinging of the narrative to make it more palatable to everyone instead of embracing their true heritage, but how can you achieve this if you are a single parent with minimal or perhaps no contact with the other parents culture. Our younger generation is in the process of making good choices for their future in our democracy and in the rest of the world, so let us put our differences and pride aside and stand together for the sake of our children's future it is a known fact that segregation impacted the hearts and minds of coloured children and undermined their ability to participate in a democracy some children see themselves as inferior and accepted inferiority as part of reality the question is would it benefit them in society if they clearly understood their culture, heritage and history, I believe it would, we are who we are today in society because of things that happened prior to this moment but we tend to forget what happened a few years ago, sometimes our everyday life is the novel idea, that's the progressive idea that literally you feel like you spending one day of your life as an artist and that becomes part of your culture. The exemplified words of our ancestors is to be proud of who you are, know where you come from and what you should be doing but first and foremost know your family history because every coloured person is a part of this proud nation. We remembering that the white man's policies of segregation and racism is what divided us as coloured people and poisoned our minds, unfortunately there is a pocket of non-whites who adopted the attitude of racism and up until today in a democratic country they practice it amongst their own people and across cultures. Segregation has caused a huge amount of damage in the coloured community it's sometimes difficult to determine which is the deepest the physical wounds or the psychological wounds, any coloured person can understand the social leprosy that segregation inflicted upon them, every confrontation we have with not been accepted as a culture or as a people is another battle we still fighting, we will continue to insist that right be done because both God's will and the heritage of our people speak through our echoing demands. An important part of our lives is remembering our ancestors through treasuring their memories and their remarkable spirits but most importantly how you get along with your family members because your family is like a tree grounded by its roots with branches growing in all directions but the tree remains rooted with its branches withering and dying and bringing on new ones it's a cycle where very rarely a family name dies. If you look at life as if it were a road then your heritage would be what you see through the rear view window of the lives, events and stories that made up the road of your ancestors daily existence, we must therefore prepare our younger generation to view their heritage with pride and remove the eyes of discrimination and racism from our society to make the world a better place. We dealing with things that are age-old and arguments that we constantly having about who or what is a coloured person and how do we define ourselves, we define ourselves through acknowledging our mixed heritage and knowing our cultural family identity and by revealing our pain and suffering that had an indelible effect on our people and our country that ultimately resulted in divided families and communities our healing process will begin once we have peace amongst our ourselves and peace with our oppressors, peace can only be achieved through forgiveness and acceptance There is a yearning for more honest interpretation of the way coloured peoples were treated in South Africa those who had wealth were encouraged to created their own through transformative experience the thought process is that there are poor weary coloured people who up until today do experience oppression but there is another side of that which is given the dynamics of segregation of the haves and the haves nots a story of those who had proximity to privileges and power and those who were doomed to be abused by the lack thereof. As coloured people we analyzed our own lives and determined our own responsibilities to set straight our own fate and our willingness to wrestle with our demons so we may be able to forgive the very people who made our ancestors lives difficult through their racist laws and apartheid policies therefor you must firstly tell their stories and celebrate the spirit of how they fort and died in the struggle for equality and a none racist policy in South African and to bear witness through their lives that evil exist in racism that was the sole destruction of all non-whites lives lost in their struggle for democracy, think of it this way, they may have died in the struggle but their spirits lives on in us, we nearing the cross roads and collective decisions must be made before we run out of road.
In 1950 the Population Registration Act (which classifies every person at birth according to race) declared that all non-whites South Africans be classified into one of three races: Africa, Coloured and Indian. The legislators realized that scientifically classifying people will not work so instead they defined race in terms of two measures: appearances and public perception according to the racist laws a person was white if they were obviously or generally accepted as white. People who could prove that they were accepted as another race could petition to change their racial classification meaning that one day you could be coloured and the next day white or one day you registered Black and next day you could well be reclassified coloured this was not about fact but perception. Following the National Parties power gain in 1948, its all white government immediately began enforcing existing policies of racial segregation and instituted policies of white supremacy which empowered white South Africans and racially divided none white communities this was in line with keeping none whites from sharing power or having businesses and homes in white areas the segregation laws barred none whites from white proclaimed hospitals, libraries, schools, restaurants, beaches, public pools, public transport, public toilets, public parks and sports grounds just about everywhere were white people congregated there would be a visible sign indicating, whites only. During the reclassification period coloured people were classified either coloured, other coloured, native, Indian or white thus racially dividing immediate coloured families on complexion and hair type. The most infamous was the "pencil test", conducted on coloured peoples hair which is said that a government official would place a pencil in your hair if the pencil fell out he or she was classified white, if the pencil fell out with a bit of difficulty you were classified coloured and if it did not fall out at all he or she was classified a black person also again depending on your skin tone. Now we all know that coloured people have different types of hair hence the reclassification of immediate coloured families meaning one sibling with straight hair could pass as white and another sibling who has curly hair would be classified coloured this was the governments racist classification method. Individuals could also be subjected to humiliating examining of the color of their genitals or any other body part that the determining official felt was a clear marker of race. The arbitrary ways in which they classified race was astounding especially when one considers that people's whole lives hinged on the result therefor many coloured children born out of mixed marriages and relationships were accepted as white this result was accepted by their parents because those children were allowed the privileges, education and power that only white people enjoyed during the apartheid period. The apartheid laws and policies further gave white people the power to restrict jobs for coloured people to trades men and general factory workers, blacks were predominantly used as laborers and domestic workers, and Indian people were allowed to have businesses in none white areas but were prohibited from trading in any white areas. Furthermore, the restriction of higher education was enforced on the none white population, restricting the black population to an inferior education called the Buntu education system which ultimately resulted in black people been forced to carry a passbook as a form of identity, through this supremely evil system of human manipulation, a black person found without a passbook at a stop and search conducted by the police or security forces were arrested and the punishment for this minor offence was at most brutal and inhumane.
My great grand-father grew up in a mining community on St. Helena Island he too worked in the mines it was in his early twenties when he successfully applied for a senior mining surveyor position in Bloemfontein, South Africa in a senior position was successful there he settled down and so met and fell in love with Martha Murison whom he soon married and moved to Johannesburg settling down in a town that at the time was a mixed neighborhood there they lived and raised five children in a secure and safe environment mostly applying their own rules that would make their lives and the lives of their children less painful and pleasant, my great grandmothers famous quote was "if you don't live by your own rules you lose". I was 17 years old when my great grandparents passed and I regret not spending quality time with them in the hope that I could get to know her side of the family the "Murisons", unfortunately we the younger generation never got to meet nor were we informed in any form whatsoever of who her family members are, as a child growing up in a predominantly mixed family full of secrets and lies I witnessed their racist behavior towards other race groups not surprisingly excluding white people, today at age 63 I can testify that I have witnessed that the surviving racist parents are now accepting their children's none racist choices in their relationships and marriages, I am proud to mention that three of my nieces are married with children to Xhosa and Zulu men and they have a wonderful normal life nothing what their ancestors would have predicted or approved of. My daughter together in her relationship with her black foreign partner gave us two beautiful grandchildren after he passed she met and married a white man who very proudly legally adopted her children as his own, his life today revolves around her and his adopted two children, their standard of life is as normal and perhaps more beautiful and exciting as any other normal family.
Through my fragmentary memory of my great grandparents I can clearly recall her as been the back bone of the family, the one who made the rules and gave you a tongue lashing for not abiding to her rules but not without undivided love and care for her family and friends, she was not aesthetic like our family pushed her to the forefront as she did others, she was brash and big and kind of butch from how I remember her especially when it comes to how I want to represent my family because I do not wish to represent my family in a fictional kind of way, it is a known fact that there are dark secrets lurking in many coloured people's homes. my great grandfather was an extrovert very rarely taking part in family conversations or gatherings but had a special bond with his brother they had this habit of catching the morning sun sitting on a couch that was strategically placed on the porch where they would be engaged in conversation and enjoying his morning coffee drunk from his favorite enamel coffee mug sometimes topping it up with brandy and reading the morning newspaper 'Daily Mail' this must have been the only times I ever heard him raise his voice this was sparked not especially about the violence in the paper mostly about the apartheids governments racist policies that infuriated him an image imprinted in my mind that I will forever remember him by. as a young boy I believed my great grandmother was the bravest women and an exciting story teller. It comes as no surprise that my father's exciting story telling comes from his grandmother as it is at the time we knew her as our grandmother, she fluently presented herself as our grandmother, always dressed in a floral dress, with her grey hair tied up in a bun, never seen her with shoes because of her swollen feet, always wore thick stockings to hide her verrucous veins and dragging those big thighs as she walked sometimes talking or humming along. My biological grandmother who we came to know her as our aunt my father's spouse to be sister, she was skinny, a heavy smoker, short tempered and drank alcohol not occasionally but I believe it was a daily occurrence. My great grandmother was fond of telling us stories the one story in particular I found exciting listening too was the same story she told us last week and the week before but just listening to her talk of how brave and fearless she was to take a bus at five in the morning from Eldorado Park to Bree street Johannesburg CBD and onto a connecting bus to Coronationville hospital for her monthly checkup thereafter she would calmly walk from the hospital through Western a gang infested coloured township to where we lived in Westbury there she would spend a few days with us until the weekend when we would take her back home. She died at the age of 85 and Louis her husband at the age of 88. By tracing acquaintances, friends or anyone who may be in a position to share their stories or photos might help with finding the missing pieces of our families history, it's a long shot, but wait, perhaps after my book is published hopefully someone might come forward remembering Louis R Swartz, born 1890 and Martha A Swartz maiden surname Murison born, 1891 from Bloemfontein.
The Lie
The story we were told from a very young age about our family relations, understand this, as children we had no reason to question or had the ability to suspect otherwise, the story is that my grandmother was pregnant with her first child at a very young age I believe she was between the ages of twelve or fourteen years old, her mother been rightfully concerned for her child's future and the seriousness of an unsavory scandal that could ruin her daughter's future and damage the families reputation, in this she was stern by persuading her to either terminate the pregnancy or give birth at a home for unwed mothers and return home without the baby, her mother also made it clear to her that she had no mental, spiritual or the intellectual capacity to deal with her pregnancy including taking proper care for a baby at her tender age, she did after examining all other options agreed to the latter and gave birth at home under strict supervision by her mother and a midwife, she also had to agree not to put mention or claim to the baby after giving birth, when the time came she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, immediately her mother claimed and registered the baby as her own and named him William. This resulted in William growing up believing his grandmother was his mother and his mother was his sister, his uncles and aunts were now his brothers and sisters this lie was well hidden therefor he had no reason whatsoever to question any biological relationships. In my opinion, the consequences of a child growing up into adulthood with such deceit must be seen as a serious form of abuse, that may cause damage to the child's physical and mental health, there is a greater possibility for such children to further more develop emotional, psychosocial and behavioral problems that may see them causing significant harm to themselves and coming into contact with the criminal justice system sooner. Children who suffers this kind of abuse or any kind of abuse as a matter of fact are more likely to engage in risky sexual activities and substance abuse that may undermine their capacity to succeed at school, work or even maintain any kind of healthy relationships. I cannot comprehend if there was even the slightest possibility that William's uncles and aunts did not notice their sisters pregnant state or suspect anything out of the ordinary like missing school, eating disorders or any kind of pregnancy symptom's that she would have had because they too, I believe, were sworn to secrecy and did not make any attempt to inform their nephew of his true identity. Our elders are all particularly guilty here, no offence intended, of course as most are not around to defend themselves. Now I have to put the uneasy question to myself, was my grandmother sexually assaulted by a stranger or even a family member for all that we know, it begs the question why the cover-up of his biological father and why did his father never come forth then or now, let's take a more systematic and empirical approach to this, was there a history of sexual abuse in our family, fortunately there is no evidence to support this theory, therefor the true identity of who my grandfather is will forever lay buried alongside my grandmother and my great grandparents. William's two surviving siblings including my mother now age 83 are sticking to their, 'I don't know attitude' leaving this emotional violation of my father's birth rights a mystery. It is said that back in the day children did not have a voice in any decisions made by their elders and that was final, under no circumstances were they permitted to question their elders about anything they heard or what was said this included discussing with friends and outsiders and discussing amongst themselves. My grandmother and great-grandparents pulled off the biggest lie and managed to keep it contained amongst the people who actually know the truth and isolate it from the rest of the family, but lies has a tendency to present its ugly side when least expected, presenting itself anywhere and anytime without warnings like a virus. I confess, I did have my doubts on account of this story but then again it's the only story ever told by any one of our family members and is still making its rounds many years later after his passing, therefor I strongly believe that a child should be informed gradually at the earliest possible age of his or her biological parents, I don't see how been untruthful will benefit either one, if the parent is released from jail and wants to be in the child's life it is the parents right and the child's decision not any of the other family members unless there is an court order to instruct otherwise. A drug addict parent can be rehabilitated, and a parent who abandons his child is unforgiving but there is always that possibility that the parent will have a change of heart and mind and wants to be in the child's life once again it's the child's decision to make not yours, if a child was conceived through his mother been sexually assaulted it will be in the child's best interest to be informed accordingly and gradually. But then again people find the urge to make fun of another person's unfortunate circumstances whether intentionally or unintentionally that alone in itself can cause a child to develop an unbalanced state of mind in that he or she may act out in an unsavory violent manner. I don't believe that people are born bad or evil, I believe it's their circumstances that make them what they are, it is said that, it's a lot easier to break a man with words than with violence. Throughout my search for answers to my father's deliberate misinformed upbringing I stumbled upon the story of the notorious Theodore Bundy, Ted's story is similar, somewhat identical to that of my father, Ted was born at a home for unwed mothers and his mother abandoned him at the home after giving birth, a few months later his grandfather heard that his grandson was abandoned and wouldn't have any of that so he fetched the child and took him home there he lived with his grandparents who he believed were his parents and his mother his sister his childhood was troubled and disturbing, but somehow he managed to become this intelligent handsome young college graduate who studied law in the hope of becoming a lawyer, before he graduated his world was turned upside down when his cousin found the urge to tease him about being an illegitimate child and who he thought was his sister was his actual biological mother, he subsequently started resenting his mother because he felt he'd been humiliated through her lies and making him an illegitimate child, he became extremely wicket and shockingly evil during his college years murdering and raping at least thirty women making him Americas most wanted serial killer and rapist. Such action usually occurs in seriously traumatized and abuse children. The manner in which my father's relationship with his mother came to light was through an argument he had with the neighbors, during this argument words were exchanged and for the first time he heard that the person he goes to discos, parties and have drinks with was his biological mother. His sister "mother" was present when these words fell on his ears but she refused to admit to the truth then he confronted his mother "grandmother" who reluctantly confirmed the truth and tried to convince him that the lie was necessary to protect him and his mother but nothing more was divulged, the question now is can this kind of betrayal and abuse be justified. I believe his humiliation impacted his demeanor aggressively changing him from the gentleman he was to an angry person with a raging temper so bad that he started hanging out with the wrong crowd doing drugs and drinking extensively which ultimately caused him to lose focus on his responsibilities as a husband and father. A strong believe exists in my mind that a parent's responsibility is to gradually inform a child of their full story be it good, bad or ugly by the time the child reaches primary school the child must be somewhat aware of his family history and relations, grownups have the tendency to be selfish by trying to protect themselves by means of covering up the truth from the one person who has the right know the truth. to unpack my father's lie I don't intend destroying anything or harming anyone around me as I kind of lost the baseline of assumptions and I'm now questioning everything and everyone. Most of my research was focused on using information received from our surviving family members to better understand my father's behavior before and after, there is a broad body of literature that would suggest humans are not particularly good crystal balls otherwise things would have been different now wouldn't it. it appears through my investigation; this kind of child abuse was common amongst the coloured people especially during the apartheid era.
Mixed Siblings
My grandmother had a total of eight children during the apartheid era and never married, my father the first born registered as coloured, her second child a daughter was conceived through her relationship with a white man and because the child had all the characteristics of a white women she was accepted and registered as white. my grandmother had her next three children two girls and a boy through a relationship with a coloured man again the first of the three had all the characteristics of a white women therefor she was accepted and registered as white but her two younger siblings were registered coloured because they had a darker skin shade therefor they were not accepted as white. her next three children were conceived through her relationship with another white man but this time all three children were registered coloured. my grandmother's sixth child was born in June of 1959; whereas her eldest son's second child was born in January of 1959; my grandmothers seventh child was born in November of 1960 and her eight child born in 1961 the same year my mother gave birth to her third child, thus making two of my aunt's and uncle younger than my brother and myself, the fact that my mother and my grandmother were pregnant and had their children in the same years a picture in my mind I find hard to "mindshop" if ever there is such a word" I think it's easier growing up at a young age with and accepting who your true family relations are than finding out at a later stage in your adult life that your family relations are not what you were made to believed. My father an English speaking coloured man from Johannesburg met my mother an Afrikaans speaking coloured women from Port Elizabeth, this cocktail was unwelcoming to my father's family and they were particularly vocal about it, unashamed of their attempts to try and break up their relationship it was as I believe mentally, physically and emotionally disturbing for both my parents especially my mother but this did not affect their relationship because they exchanged vows twenty one days before their first child was born in October of 1957, immediately thereafter they moved into a rented flat were they had their second child in January of 1959;
Edward and my father developed a relationship similar to that of brother's in laws as they both came to believe the lie my grandmother and great grandparents presented and pretended to be factual but my father and Edwards relationship soured not long after my sister was born in June of 1964 on the day it snowed in Johannesburg and Edward having a platonic relationship with my parents suggested they name her Jenifer which means 'White Wave' coinciding with her complexion and the snow that was the last we heard or seen him.
In the early 1960's the apartheid governments policies of racial segregation together with the Group Areas Act assigned racial groups to different residential and business sections in urban areas in a system of urban apartheid; all none whites were then served with eviction orders and forcefully moved out of their homes that were in the newly proclaimed white areas according to the apartheid government, coloured people were evicted and relocated to Eldorado Park, Bosmond, Coronationville and Western. Due to the force removals people across the country took to the streets in a peaceful demonstration protesting against these bias acts, but the government reacted by deploying armed security forces and police armed with police dogs not in an attempt to disperse the protesters but to rather brutalized and jail as many protesters as possible. In the meanwhile the government officials carried on with serving eviction orders and forcefully removing families and their belongings in army trucks from Western Native Township that was home to black families since 1919 and renamed the township 'Western Coloured Township' in 1963 and moved the black families to a deserted piece of land far south of Johannesburg and named it Soweto the result is that many families had their belongings destroyed, damaged or lost during this process. A year later in 1964 the Indian community living in Fietas, Pageview and surrounding white areas were evicted and ordered to vacate their homes and businesses and were forcefully relocated to Lenasia. Although my father was born in Jeppe he and my mum got married and continued living in Jeppe after their third child was born they were served with eviction orders to immediately vacate their present homes and move to the now newly proclaimed Coloured Township originally named Western native township, to this day the original street names were fortunately never changed as they were names of important black people. My research led me to understand that this area was somewhat popular for activities related to the African National Congress (ANC) and the Natives Representative Council (NRC) and that some members of the executive of the ANC and the S.A. Communist Party were residence of this township, a few black families who had English or Afrikaans surnames were perceived as coloured, and managed to keep their homes in the now called coloured township and lived side by side with the coloured community unfortunately, what I did find to be a major irritation, are those coloured people who had the notion that they were superior over dark skin and Afrikaans speaking people this was proof that some none whites adopted the white man's racist manners and by doing so they were blindly strengthening the racist laws of segregation.
We grew up in a broadly English speaking community in a mixed neighborhood, our house had electricity and running water and due to the force removals of none whites out of the now proclaimed white areas, our new house in the township had no electricity or running water the toilet and water was located in the back yard but never the less my parents made every effort to make our home reasonable comfortable. Another lovely experience was to now learn and speak the common spoken language of the township which was Afrikaans. My mother a dress maker worked from home and my father a qualified cabinet maker the bread winner and hardworking man who seen to his family's needs first, all the furniture in our house was built by himself built to fit the house perfectly, he was a very neat person, making his trip to his favorite barber every Saturday morning then off to his tailor shop for a fit of his new cut trousers he took every pride in his dress code as he did his sons I recall been one of a few families in the township that owned of a vehicle it was a Valiant 200 beige in color which my mother drove more often than he did, he was a friendly and respectable kind hearted person who earned his respect in the township and was a keen dart player at the Hamilton lounge if he wasn't at the darts club he was obsessed with the writer author 'Louis La More' and read every novel written by him, every other Sunday he would play as a substitute defender for Anchors soccer club. He had many friends and made friends wherever he went because of his persona, there were a few occasions were we had strangers knock on our door saying we brought your dad home because it is not safe for him to be walking alone in these dark unlit streets with doggie people on every corner in the township this was a common occurrence as his routine stop over after work was the Hamilton lounge for a game of darts and drinks yet he had never been hurt or robbed through all the years we lived in the township. My mother portrayed my father as this drunk and abusive man to her friends and family saying that her husband had physically abused her on numerous occasions, they had no reason not to believe her because of her persuasiveness, but when we were old enough to question our mother about her allegations we were abruptly brushed off but the discussion continued amongst ourselves and the conclusion was that none of us witnessed the assaults or ever seen my mother bruised or bloodied, yes my father was verbally abusive that it sometimes scared the devil out of us, his anger was triggered mainly when my mother made reference to his growing up with his mother as his sister and insulted him about his racist "play white" family this made him so angry that he would smash his fist into walls and doors and damaging furniture around him but to the best of our recollection none of us did witnessed the alleged physical assault as my mother claimed. During his episode of hitting walls and doors and damaging furniture my mother will go out of the house screaming blue murder, I believe it was to draw attention to the neighbors even though he did not lay a hand on her, ever since I've been asking the obvious question if he did assault my mother why was the police never summoned or a case of assault and domestic violence ever brought against him?. I can remember laying in my bed and listening to them arguing late at night when suddenly my mother would gather us from our beds and run with us to the neighbor's house my father was accustomed to this behavior and would calmly go to bed, I can just imagine the horror stories my mother told the neighbors of how her husband put her and her children out in the street and was about to murder her, sometimes we would sleep over at the neighbors and sometimes we would stay until she decides it's safe to go back home "safe from what" we were taught not to question our parents and too afraid of a hiding my mother was never short of giving and that for questioning her. My mother was the disciplinarian to physically discipline her children with whatever she could get her hands on at that very moment, one such incident I can recall I was about ten years old when my mother got so angry at me that she grabbed her dressmaking scissor and threw it at me, I received eight stiches to the wound on my right shoulder, I could never bring myself to telling that it was my mother who scared me, I suppose it's because she is my mother and I love her just as much as I loved my father who never disciplined his children except for the one time that I remember my older brother at age twelve was disciplined by my father for stealing money from the schools petty cash box during his final year at primary school, my father questioned him about the allegations but he obviously denied it and couldn't give a reasonable explanation of where he got the money from to buy a pair of convers all-star tekkies (sneakers) my father went through pockets and found some more money and did the calculations of the cost of the tekkies and the amount of money found on him it was the exact amount stolen from the schools petty cash box. His punishment wasn't painful it was a lesson that stealing wasn't unacceptable and furthermore he explained that it was a criminal offence therefor he was ordered to return the tekkies for a refund and return the full amount he stole from the school but that didn't happen so my father ended up apologizing for his son's behavior and payed all of the money back to the school, the school principal and pastor of the seven day Adventist church was a reasonable man and did not take the matter further, during the last few days of primary school the principal preached especially to my brother to take with him to high school the lesson he learned that stealing is a crime, a crime that can stain your future and you may not be seen or be accepted as an honest person in your community.
My mother did not get along with her in-laws and instructed "us" her children not to visit our fathers side of the family because she believed they were racist and looked down on dark of complexion coloured people and she made it clear to them that they were not welcome in her home, but when we were old enough and made our own decisions we saw a side that didn't completely match my mother's description of my father's family, her assumption of my father's family not accepting us as they did her proved to be true amongst some not all of his family members, the racist attitudes and superiority were oozing out of the ones that had a lighter skin shade than us and who had straight hair compared to our curly and frizzy hair they also had the tendency to make us feel inferior and uncomfortable in their presence with their bias remarks Whether you like it or not you cannot choose your family but except them for who they are and they except you for who you are that's the key to a united and tight nit family. When making the sad decision of been bias with certain family members regret will eventually find its way into your soul especially when your own children are grown and they too see the ugly face of biasness in their family, parents must never allow their children to take part in this kind of sad family feuds that they came along with from the past because when this happens your immediate family is labeled bias and racist.
By assisting my grandchildren with constructing our family tree proved difficult as I don't know who my grandfather is so that part of the family tree remains a mystery, therefor by writing this book and bringing it to the younger generation here in South Africa and abroad is to get to know and except who you related to whether they in contact with you or not and don't just believe the stories that ran over your ears and make an assumption of someone else's evil doings it may well poison your innocent mind, understand that in your family we are all different in appearance, manners and circumstances that is what make your family unique and beautiful, as parents we try to make our environment safe for our children away from violence, gangs, drugs and abusive environments and by helping our kids build a sense of civic responsibility and leadership.
Name calling amongst Light skin and dark skin coloured families were common, names such as 'high bucks' and 'play whites' a term used to embarrass light skin coloured people, dark skin coloured people were called embarrassing names like "afspringer" and "kroeskop" thus causing the racial divide amongst our own people. The apartheid governments population registration methods, racist laws and group areas act was responsible for the brutal manner in which they divided our people and tore apart bonded communities. Unfortunately racism in coloured families do exist in this day and age and at worst amongst blood relatives, cousins, uncles and aunts this is what divides us as a people and is destroying our heritage, I'm telling it like it is, without fear or favor so that our children don't grow up to practice racism but understand that racism is an evil practice that is capable of building barriers between families, I believe there is a common understanding of unity amongst the coloured people today, we say enough is enough and stand together to repair what the past has done to our people.
My parents were forcefully moved from a mixed race suburb where my father was born and moved to a coloured township, we didn't know much about township life but quickly learned the rules of survival and how to avoid saying or doing things that make others uncomfortable, we got accustomed to the smell of burning coal that filled the air at night, all these things now seem to be the opposite of the life we were accustomed too, the township was infested with gangs visibly just about on every street corner, there were the notorious "Fast Guns" who controlled the north side of the township and the "Spaldings" who controlled the South side of the township these were the most feared gangs in all of Johannesburg not only in the coloured townships. How it seemed that coloured men has lost all reason and that we'd become animals or perhaps we just surrendered to the fact that animals are what the apartheid government made us to be and treated us that way. But there are people who knew we were more than that and that we have evolved beyond a search for our next meal or the dominance to breed who we choose or where we breath fresh air, we weren't poor, we weren't desperate even though the townships were filled with nothing but nothing isn't what drove us it was a dream and that dream has finally become a reality. I witnessed many acts of gang wars, unspeakable violent stabbings, murders, assaults including robbing of innocent people, the gang wars became so brutal that the township was eventually declared a no go zone, these gang wars and related crimes took place anywhere and at any time, one such violent incident took place in the hospital were a gang member was stabbed to death whilst been treated in his hospital bed another disrespectful manner in which the gangs targeted their enemies was at the cemetery during the funeral service of their enemy the most disgusting experience for the women and children attending the funeral service. The townships way of life was complicated in comparison to the suburban way of life, Western township became so violent that the residents had to caution their friends and family when visiting in how to avoid certain areas, unlit streets and how not to be over polite when spoken too or do things that would make you look like you don't belong in the township. In order to exclude none whites from participating in inter-provincial and international sports the apartheid government's plan to strengthen and validate their racist laws and policies of segregation labeled the entire none white population as barbaric, uneducated and violent. Whenever there was a gang violence or war in the township it was the norm for the white police force members to be waiting in their police cars on the outskirts of the township until the gang war has quieted down and all wounded gang members were transported to hospitals, as soon as the skirmish was over then only would the police proceed into the township to present themselves as peacemakers but as we called them law gangsters. I believe it was their intention to allow the violence to continue in order for the world to believe segregation in South Africa was necessary. Peace talks with gang leaders to try and stop the gang wars and violence in the township were attempted by many priest, politicians and celebrities but had absolutely no impact at all. One such attempt and testimony of Nicky Cruz an American gang boss, leader of a gang called the 'Mau Maus' he came to south Africa with his message of how he changed from been a gang boss to becoming a world renowned Evangelist, he met with our local priest, police commissioner, politicians and the community in the Union soccer stadium to pray and speak with some of the gangsters in the hope of bringing peace and ending the gang wars but unfortunately his attempt were in vain and the violence still continues to this day. What he left behind was for every young man in the township to go see the movie based on his life as a gangster called the 'Cross & the switchblade' and 'Run baby Run'.
Living in a small house and a growing family my parents purchase a bigger house in the newly built homes for coloured people that was an extension of western township and close to the schools we attended and close to his work place but by then we were accustomed to the township lifestyle that by now was well developed with numerous soccer grounds, public swimming pools and recreation centers sporting two well-known boxing clubs, this made most young men and women look beyond the dark side of the township and saw freedom, the freedom that the sports world offered but we knew nothing of the horrors that hides in freedoms shadow. Freedom to most sports men and women was playing with your heart and soul with no notion that any other moment exists beyond the one you are living. The townships boxing club 'Bull and Bush' produced well known professional boxers unfortunately freedom to them was an idea, an abstract thought that pertains to control, that wasn't freedom that is independence. Two well-known coloured professional boxers from the township who traded in their boxing gloves for the knife were amongst the last people sentenced to death for crimes in South Africa in 1985. Some athletes who turned gangsters perished in gang related violence or succumbed in prison, just like that horror steps from the shadows and then freedom is gone. my brother decided to throw in the towel for fear of been enticed into a gang following that some of his fellow boxers who he befriended traded in their boxing gloves for gang membership. Growing up in western where violence, murders and gang wars were an everyday occurrence we became accustomed to our surroundings of where and when we could walk play and be safe, gang wars were extremely violent and took place when you least expect, at times concerned friends and family members of gangsters would warn the community beforehand to stay clear of certain areas where they expect the gang war to take place in fear of innocent people getting caught in the middle of this violence. He traded in his boxing gloves for a pair of goal keepers gloves but the soccer fields had its own way of inviting criminal activities so he decided to rather concentrate on a career and through his dedication and commitment he was amongst the first batch of coloured guys to be recruited by the Johannesburg municipality as a bus driver, jobs that were previously reserved for whites only, he was a well-dressed gentleman who loved to dress in the finest cloths and shoes, I remember my obsession with his dress code that I had no issue with been his shoe shine boy, I would clean every stitch on his shoes with a toothbrush just as he taught me, it might come across as a joke today but I took every pleasure in doing it for him. Coloured people earned less than their white counterparts for doing the same job with the same education but that didn't stop us from progressing further in life, another obsession of his was the six-cylinder Ford range of cars, he had owned the Ford Cortina Big6, Ford XR6 and the Ford 30S a true car enthusiast. He met and married a lady who was at the time a nursing student at Coronation hospital, they moved in with her parents for short while, two years later they got a flat in Hillbrow undetached to the group areas act that proclaimed Hillbrow a white area only, due to the demarcation of ethnicity groupings the government was forced to build adequate housing for coloured people because there was a server shortage of housing for none whites they then allocated housing as a priority to all coloured government worker, and relocated the none whites still living in white areas who slipped through the cracks. He was offered a newly built two-bedroom flat in Eldorado park there they lived and raising their three boys and daughter as soon as their eldest son got married they gave their flat over to him, and bought a house where they currently reside with their children and grandchildren.
My father died on the night I got a call to pick him up from his sister's house in Ellis Park, on the way home he had an argument with our live in friend about respect, the argument got heated forcing me to pull off on the side of the road to defuse the situation as soon as the car came to a standstill my father got out of the car in a rage and proceeded to cross the road without looking the next thing I heard was the screeching of car tires and a load thud, it then struck me that my father was run over by a car driven and later learned she was a learner driver that failed to observe a person in the road or swerve out of his path the paramedics was on the seen within minutes and rushed him to hospital I was by his side all the time until he was taken into the surgery room that was the last time I seen my father alive, he died on the operating table of a heart bypass, it was the most horrific experience of my life with constant flashbacks 33years later.
My youngest brother who was born in the township was tragically shot to death at the tender age of 21, he had no affiliation to a gang nor was involved in any illegal activities, it is unfortunate that at the time of the shooting he was with two friend sitting with him in his car waiting for his girlfriend to join them as soon as she got in the car four men walked up to the car without any warning started shooting into the car at the occupants, no one survived the onslaught, they were aged between twenty and twenty two his girlfriend was the youngest. A totally senseless crime was it because they were on drugs or was there another reason for this, we don't know but there were assumptions made that because one of our four brother was involved in illegal activities and they couldn't get to him so they decided to take revenge on his brother but there was no evidence to support this theory, and did not give any form of explanation as to why they committed this hideous crime in court other than been intoxicated and under the influence of drugs therefor each was sentenced to life in prison.
My older brother developed throat cancer and was hospitalized, the first and only cancer related illness in our family, a few days before his 60th birthday he discharged himself from hospital to spend his birthday at home with his family, it seemed to me like he knew he wasn't going to beat the cancer that's why he ignored his wife plea for him to stay in hospital and she pointed out that's where he'll get all the necessary care to assist him with his recovery, a few days after his birthday he was re-admitted for further treatment, and died 22 days after his 60th birthday Leaving behind his wife, 4 children and 10 grandchildren.
We like any other family are shattered by the loss of loved ones, every person on this planet will endure this pain until they the cause of it for another, someday we'll all die and shatter hearts too, we alive today but waiting for death that is inevitable, it follows us like a stray animal waiting to devour us like scraps, the pain it causes is so acute, so complete its hard to understand how it benefits us, as a people, what purpose does pain serve? I understand desire, fear and love and how they protect us and better our lives bringing on new life even when you are consumed by grief. People who now live in the suburbs have the tendency to look down on people who comes from the townships, precisely the racism that we experienced during the apartheid era, it is alleged that if you come from the townships you are automatically associated with crime, gangs and drugs but we all know that our townships has produce many successful and professional sports, business, medical and political people in the ethnicity demographic environment. Drugs and our younger modern generation today is a cocktail for destruction and death, but for the drug lords, kingpins and their street workers their only mission in life is to get rich and get more and more children hooked on their drugs, once they these children are hooked they lose their self-respect in that they prepared to do just about anything from committing unspeakable crimes to selling their bodies, they become ruthless warriors to feed their drug habit. Behind every mile stone of human history stands a monster, behind every child stands a drug monster that's waiting to consume them, that's the way things appear and the way they really are. The twentieth century has seen an increase in the sale of drugs to our children even though as parents and grandparents we do our best to educate and warn our children of the dangers that comes with taking drugs, some children seem to have lost the ancient warrior code of loyalty and obedience, you must understand we coloured people are selfless people capable of immense sacrifice because of our complete devotion to a set of rules. It is a fundamental human concept that the people of any nation have the inherent right to choose their own rules. My rule is simple "Say No to Drugs"!!!!
Moving from the township to the suburbs we attempt to abandoned every bad memory of the township as though we were born in the suburbs but we weren't, we were leaving a place and seeking another for a better life and the journey was necessary, somehow I felt immune to the dangers of the suburb's as if the suburb and I struck a deal, I could pass unharmed so long as I loved it and I did, I loved everything about it, but crossing over to the township there was no deal, no matter how much you loved it, the township will never love you back. I think cities have made us stronger and also weakened us, families who crossed over quickly learned that mistakes have no consequences there, step into the road without looking and the car merely stops or swerves, the only consequences is an angry driver but here there can be no mistakes because here didn't care about coloured people or how much you love your children and had no interest in our dreams, we were in a land of no mercy. Freedom is accepting consequences, embracing it and wrapping it around you like the hug your mother gave, if the consequences are death I choose to accept that too because there is a moment where your dreams and memories merge together and form a perfect world, now that is heaven. And each heaven is unique, it is the world of you, it's what you make of a bad or good situation.