My brother in the struggle, mentor and friend: goodbye
He was a committed, steadfast and moral star to steer by, Laloo Chiba writes in a tribute to Ahmed Kathrada
IWRITE with my pen dipped in tears. I am overwhelmed with immense grief at the loss of Ahmed “Kathy” Kathrada, my leader, my elder brother, my political mentor, my friend, hero and guiding star of 63 years.
Over the past few days, as I saw Comrade Kathy’s condition steadily deteriorate, I grappled with how I would come to terms with his passing. I looked towards his own life and how he had coped with the passing away of his “elder brother”, Nelson Mandela.
I recalled that at the time of Madiba’s death, Kathy penned a piece to him as if he were still alive. I now follow his example. So, my dear brother Kathy, Nothing could have prepared me for the moment of your passing. As an Umkhonto weSizwe operative, I may have in the past prided myself on a stoicism that keeps one straightfaced even in the midst of the greatest pain; today, all those stoic sensibilities have disappeared as I unashamedly weep like a child at your loss.
During my visits to you in hospital, I saw you becoming “a shadow of your former self”, as you described Madiba during his final days. Your illness has been a particularly painful experience for your loving wife, Barbara Hogan, your family, and all of us at your foundation.
This past week my mind grabbed onto the edges of the coat of memory, and for a moment we were back on Robben Island. There we were, Eddie Daniels and I, on bedpan duty as you underwent traction for your aching back. Madiba was at your side, talking and sharing meals. It was January 1976 and you had already endured over a decade of harshness on the island. Despite the many prison days that lay ahead of you, coupled with the excruciating back pain, you nevertheless remained an optimist.
It was this optimism that flashed through my mind during the course of your latest operation. For sentimental reasons, you yearned to do one last drive to Cape Town with Ismail Vadi and me, as we often did during our parliamentary years. But your grey eyes looking out of your hollowed face told a very different story and left me with a sadness that the trip would never materialise. Your face whispered the tale of mortality itself.
Etched in the lines of your face, I saw both your history and that of our people. As you stared back at me, an old man who had sacrificed so much for so long, it became abundantly clear to me that you would “shuffle off this mortal coil” and enter the immortal pages of history.
Because of your dedicated contribution to the noble course of liberating our people during a time span covering three-quarters of a century, you take your rightful place alongside the giants of our democratic revolution.
During the course of that contribution, the “trio” of Mandela, Walter Sisulu and yourself were accused in the three milestone trials of the 1950s and ’60s: after the 1952 campaign for the defiance of unjust laws; the Treason Trial of 1956-1961, when the trio were among the last 30 to be acquitted; and lastly, the trial of the century, in 1964, when the trio, together with other Rivonia triallists, were sentenced to life imprisonment.
Before these historic trials, you participated in the passive resistance campaign of 1946, you were a member of the district committee of the reconstituted SACP, worked full time for the central committee of the party, contributed to the formation of the Congress Alliance — made up of four national organisations representing the national groups in our country — and you helped organise the 1955 Congress of the People. You also provided administrative assistance at the 1956 Women’s March.
During the following decade, you joined the armed struggle when it was launched in December 1961.
You served on the second-highest military structure of Umkhonto weSizwe, namely the Johannesburg regional command.
However, you were honest enough to admit that you were more suited to the political struggle than the military struggle, and consequently you tendered your resignation from that structure.
Having first met you in 1954, I remained politically inactive, despite the fact that I admired your contribution as an important youth leader.
It was only in 1956, during the countrywide raids on Congress activists, when you were also arrested, that I was jolted out of my political slumber. You thereafter became my political mentor, and guided me throughout my life.
During my own political involvement, I was unaware that I was being observed by Comrade Reggie Vandeyar to determine whether I was suitable material for the SACP. I later discovered that Comrade Reggie had recommended me to be recruited into the party. Apparently, this recommendation was processed by the district committee of the SACP, on which you served, and I became a fullyfledged member of the party.
Ultimately, I was among the first group of MK operatives in the Indian areas to be part of the armed struggle when it was launched in 1961.
After my conviction in the “Little Rivonia Trial”, I was taken to Robben Island, where I joined the Rivonia triallists in 1965.
You were among the first comrades I met on the island. You had convinced a warder to allow you a short visit to my cell. A thick crop of hair has always been my defining feature, and I remember the shock on your face when you saw that the prison authorities had shaved it all off as an act of humiliation. I reminded you of this just a few weeks ago, when your own hair was shaved off ahead of your operation.
On Robben Island, you were a model prisoner, not from the point of view of the authorities, but from the point of view of the values and principles of the ANC. You served on the highest political structure on the island, namely the High Organ, on a rotational basis for several years. This structure was responsible for all matters relating to the ANC on the island.
You remained an activist, even in the narrow confines of the dungeons of apartheid. You were part of a committee responsible for the political education of ANC members on Robben Island. You and S’bu Ndebele, as librarians, organised access to forbidden literature, among which was Das Kapital and the works of Mao Zedong and Friedrich Engels.
You headed the communications committee, which was a necessity to keep in touch with prisoners on other parts of Robben Island.
You persuaded Walter Sisulu to approach Madiba to secretly write his autobiography with a view to smuggling it out of prison. This manuscript formed the basis of the world-famous Long Walk to Freedom. You were equally responsible for doing a similar exercise with regards to Sisulu, who you regarded as your father.
As I look back, how I wish that we could spend a few more years together — reflecting on the past, sharing everything from political analysis to jokes at our regular Wednesday breakfasts at Wimpy.
There were still so many things we were hoping to do: one of them was finding the replica of a cell key that our fellow prisoner, Jeff Masemola, had made from scratch on Robben Island. We had buried it, together with banned books and a radio, so that the authorities would not find it. I had forgotten the exact location, but you were adamant that you knew where we had hidden it.
We had every intention of going to the island to retrieve the key, but with your burial those items remain buried forever.
My dear brother, you were passionate about several things. You were passionate about nonracialism. You were against racist remarks and you were instrumental in making the foundation named after you confront these issues on an ongoing basis
You were also passionate about the development of our youth, from whose ranks you believed future leaders would emerge.
You were passionate about uplifting the poor and downtrodden. You had hoped to live to see the political miracle of 1994 transformed into the socioeconomic miracle of the future.
You were passionate about the preservation and promotion of liberation history.
You were also concerned about the plight of Palestinian political prisoners and you took the initiative to interact with the relevant people in Palestine to set up the campaign to free Marwan Barghouthi and all Palestinian political prisoners.
You should take comfort that all of these passions have been incorporated into the core objectives of the foundation named after you.
We express the hope that people in this country follow your exemplary conduct and values, which include simplicity, humility, forthrightness, honesty and a sense of self-sacrifice in the interest of the people.
Kathy, at Mandela’s funeral you said the following: “In death, you once more challenge people from every strata, religion and position to think about how their own actions do and can change the world for better or worse.”
It is not surprising that even in death you took your cue from Madiba. In death, you have challenged us to continue striving for a nonracial, nonsexist, democratic South Africa. You also challenge us to protect our constitution and uphold its ideals.
When I think of you, I am reminded of the poem by John Masefield:
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by . . .
Kathy, as the masses of our people mourn your loss, I am convinced that you are not only my “star”. You are, as Shakespeare would put it, “the star to every wandering bark”.
As our country charts troubled waters, I know that if we keep in sight your guidance and your values, we can steer ourselves towards that future that you and your generation envisioned.
I know, Kathy, that we come into this world on one condition: that one day we shall have to leave it. And, should there be another world, my brother, and should we ever meet again in that world, it will be a most joyous reunion, and a magnificent gift to both of us. Hamba kahle, my comrade. May you rest in peace — a peace you so richly deserve.
Chiba is a board member of the Ahmed Kathrada Foundation
You were also passionate about the development of our youth, from whose ranks you believed future leaders would emerge. As our country charts troubled waters, I know that if we keep in sight your values, we can steer ourselves towards that future