TRC failed victim’s family
Forgiving and forgetting war crimes will remain impossible until justice is seen to be done
SIX WEEKS ago, I wrote about Ashley Kriel, murdered, failed by the TRC. This week I write about Mandlenkosi Tshaka Kratshi. I recognise the danger that this weekly column may be perceived as no more than a commemoration of Struggle heroes whom the present have brushed under the carpet.
But even if it is only this, it is performing a duty our society has failed to honour. It is my belief that our society has deep scars from the past that remain unaddressed, and that until they are addressed any talk of our being a unified country is nonsense.
I am not young, so the things that I perceive as scars may feel like ancient history to many. But I am also not alone. There can be no Day of Reconciliation without justice.
Mandlenkosi lived beside the white Karoo town of Beaufort West, in the place known then as “Bantu Location” where seven thousand people struggled to survive in derelict hovels served by sixteen stinking public toilets and eleven taps.
Mandlenkosi was a member of the UDF at that point in the Struggle, where the apartheid government had adopted military techniques against the people.
Mandlenkosi was shot on January 22, 1985 while he was preparing breakfast for his 7-year-old son, Simphiwe, at their home.
Mandlenkosi was shot by a white 23-year-old SAP constable, Pieter Andries de Villiers. Such events were common at the time.
When four apartheid policemen entered Mandlenkosi’s home, he agreed to accompany them, but only after he had fed his son. So the four policemen grabbed Mandlenkosi, and he lunged at them with the fork that he was using to stir Simphiwe’s porridge. The police beat him.
By the end of it, Mandlenkosi stood at the door of his house, bleeding profusely. De Villiers, the constable, stood outside, telling onlookers to make way for him. “Let me shoot the pig!” he said in Afrikaans. Then he shot Mandlenkosi.
When the inquest was held, the community, wearing UDF shirts, marched under police guard to the court in Beaufort West. Just before dark they marched, in orderly fashion, back to the township.
The police, out of nowhere, fired on them. An activist ran back to town and into the court and begged the magistrate for help.
“They are shooting our people in cold blood!” The magistrate threatened to arrest the activist for contempt of court, then continued with the inquest.
Later that night, the magistrate delivered a short judgment in which he concluded that a white policeman would never shoot a black person in cold blood. Medical evidence showing that Mandlenkosi had been severely beaten and disabled before he was shot was, as you would expect, ignored. A grave injustice was done by this apartheid court.
Simphiwe consequently went before the TRC and told this story, as did Mandlenkosi’s neighbour, Nonceba Mangaliso. But De Villiers, the constable, didn’t. He never applied for amnesty.
One can argue about whether the TRC giving amnesty to certain of the monsters who went before it delivered justice. That is not the question here. De Villiers didn’t go before it. Unequivocally, there was no healing process. But there still can be. That is what a justice system is for.
South Africa suffered a brutal asymmetric war. Making peace proved possible. Forgiving and forgetting war crimes will remain impossible until justice is seen to be done. The struggle continues.
In 1995 Archbishop Tutu, then head of the TRC, described our holiday on December 16 as serving the need of healing the wounds of apartheid. While people like De Villiers remain on our streets, unprosecuted, and so many similar cases remain unresolved, I find it hard to share his faith.
When asked his thoughts on British civilisation, Mahatma Gandhi replied he thought it would be a good idea, and that they should try it. I feel the same about reconciliation in South Africa.