Lion of Adelaide picked up the ball and never backed down
MUCH has already been said about Mike Stofile, but we as the family of the Red Lion Club of Adelaide wish to confirm as true what his brother the Reverend Makhenkesi Stofile said in his tribute to him.
We want to add a few facts which we believe he left out because he did not want to make his brother appear a paragon. Indeed, it is rare that a brother will eulogise a brother in this world, one that often says, “I am not my brother’s keeper”. We wish that the families could learn from this alone before looking at their neighbours.
Makhenkesi publicly admitted that their parents moved from farm to farm. This was the affect of the Land Act of 1913 which is still a subject of debate, even today.
One of the provisions of that Act was that a farm owner could not keep or give accommodation to a black labourer at his farm unless he was his employee. There was a fine or imprisonment of up to three months for contravening the Act.
The situation became worse under the presidency of DF Malan, when he introduced the Group Areas Act. This act made towns a no-go area for farmworkers.
The only space made available for farmworkers in the area who were displaced was the outspan (isikhululo), an open space just before entering the town of Adelaide. A farmworker could put his belongings and his family there and thereafter go about looking for work that would give him a home on the farm of his new employer. The mode of travelling was either by bicycle or on foot. The children of that period of life in the outspan were, for a change, nearer to the Davidson Memorial School, which accommodated farm children. It was founded in memory of John and Mary Black.
Automatically they became members of the Presbyterian Church. This is where the Stofile brothers went to school and church.
At Davidson, rugby was taught as if it was a school subject, not an extra-mural activity. Basic rules including international rugby laws were taught. Little did we know then, that the Stofile boys would one day rise to the highest offices of the sport.
One of their teachers, SF Makhenyane, also rose to become an executive in the SA Black Rugby Board under the presidency of one the rugby greats, Grant Kgomo of the black Transvaal Rugby Union.
On becoming president, Kgomo was sympathetic towards the plight of rural rugby players, especially from Adelaide which fed his province with quality players. In return, he organised them contracts in the mines. Mike, on becoming deputy president of the South African Rugby Union (Saru), did not hesitate to honour Kgomo.
He and Mveleli Ncula, his CEO, created a competition for under 13’s that is presently still in the schools that play rugby among all races. They named it after Grant Kgomo and they gave it a status equal to Craven Week that recognises Danie Craven.
What a delivery. Black rugby analysts recognised the investment of this competition whereby students who study sport can manage and market young players from the age of 13 up to the time they reach Saru status.
When the talks about non-racial sport and the Black Consciousness Movement were still taboo, Mike set the cat among the pigeons and started to canvass among his own club members.
We as his seniors started tracing his farm background, evading the issues. But he never backed down. Instead he canvassed among our rivals, for example Lily White Rugby Club. They wasted no time and joined the Victoria East Rugby Union that practiced non-racial sport.
This is where the likes of the late Niberg Magwa of Umhlobo Wenene, Sir Thozi Nyakatya and Mondli Nohashe came from. Time waited for no man. The doors were closed on us and we missed out in sport talks and other political debates that affected our lives.
Because of our brinkmanship, we fell on our swords, fighting an outdated policy that looked at a colour bar.
If there is such a thing as a “born-free”, I would call these brothers “born-to-suffer”. Yet they did it. Both rose to the highest offices of rugby administration.
Upon the grave of Mike Stofile, we lean and cry on the shoulder of his brother who never forgot the team and the town that made him a man. We proudly steal patriotic words from the archives of Donald Woods and say, “Apha kulele indoda yamadoda”. — TO Mbetshu, via e-mail
Tribute to Jean
JEAN de Villiers’ early exit from the World Cup scene seemed almost inevitable and was not entirely unexpected. We all feel deeply for him and wish him well. An outstanding athlete, he played the game that he loved with passion, camaraderie and sportsmanship.
Perhaps a most fitting tribute would be to say he was the Basil Kenyon of South African rugby’s “modern era”.
And, while thanking him for those many exciting moments he provided on the field, might we slip in a most urgent request, “Please, ou maat, find a seat home for Matfield as well.” — Eric van der Vyver, via e-mail
Harvest of the trough
READING the column by Premier Phumlo Masualle in Saturday’s paper, “Treat public as masters, not servants” (SD, September 26) I felt a little embarrassed. The horse has long bolted, so to speak.
People like him and those who preceded him missed an opportunity to do exactly what he is trying to do now.
They kept their heads in the sand while old civil servants had to either leave or suffer inside the public service.
I would advise the premier to look close to home for a literature reference. At the Steve Biko Centre is a book called Dashed Hopes written by one of those who left at the advent of democracy because the pressure became too much to bear.
He will find that American theorists did not suffer at the hands of his comrades like this writer did. In this book, the pain of being marginalised at a time when the fruits of liberation were to be enjoyed is expressed. The call at the time was “mabahambe” – this is our time to eat.
Maybe he will remember it, even if he was not in power. But still he must have been part of the crowd baying for our blood at the time.
The strange thing about life is that some of us still live to tell the story. Back then was the right time to turn the civil service around and introduce a new paradigm for the new public services corps.
This was a period that brought a lot of confusion for those who were targeted. It caused a pain that never wants to go away.
The things we said at the time made us unwanted, but these are the very things the premier is talking about today.
The pain of apartheid was incremental, deliberately and systematically inflicted, sustained by myriad laws. The pain inflicted at the advent of democracy by his comrades was dramatic and traumatic.
It is now apparent that this strategy of personal gain was not well thought out, hence we have an unpatriotic civil service today. The rot has set in and those closer to the feeding trough are not going to be keen to move away now. The Premier must live with that. — Mxolisi Toyitoyi Dimbaza, King William’s Town
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