Priscilla Jana
Lawyer, ambassador, hero and honorary Sisulu
Human rights lawyer Priscilla Jana went so far beyond what she called ‘the ambit and scope of your legal functions’ in representing anti-apartheid activists that she became indispensable to their families. Elinor Sisulu pays tribute to the late stalwart Her clientele was not confined to the high-profile leaders and activists. The lives of most of the populace under apartheid were so circumscribed by repressive laws that the services of a lawyer were as essential as a family doctor
‘This is my lawyer, Priscilla Jana. She is also my daughter”. This is how my mother-in-law, Albertina Sisulu, introduced me to Priscilla Jana during the second weekend of my visit to my future in-laws in March 1986.
Priscilla described her relationship with Albertina as “strong and wonderful”. When I interviewed her for my biography of Walter and Albertina Sisulu she said: “I represented every member of the Sisulu family, either through a court trial or some confrontation with the police. In the end I became a combination of a family lawyer, friend and child.”
Priscilla described human rights lawyers as people who had to be social workers, counsellors and a host of other things. “You had to go beyond the ambit and scope of your legal functions. When you took on political trials, they would not only harass the activist member. They would harass the whole family.”
That was indeed the case with the Sisulu family. From the time Walter Sisulu was incarcerated on Robben Island in July 1963 until the release of Jongumzi Sisulu in March 1990, there was always at least one member, if not more, of the Sisulu family in prison or detention, and throughout the tumultuous 1980s Priscilla Jana represented them all.
Just one example of the tenacity she applied to her work was when Albertina, after seven months in detention, was sentenced in 1983 to four years imprisonment for furthering the aims of the ANC. “When she [MaSisulu] was convicted and sentenced, I forgot my family, my home, my everything. I cracked up completely. I had to do something.”
Priscilla immediately lodged a bail application and spent most of the night knocking on doors to raise R10,000 bail, a huge amount at that time. She arrived with the cash at Pretoria prison at midnight.
“We knocked on the doors. I wouldn’t move. I said we want MaSisulu.”
She overcame the protests of rude, hostile prison officers to secure her client’s release. A sleepy MaSisulu was released from jail at 2am and taken to Priscilla’s house for mutton curry and rice prepared by her husband, Reggie Jana, because in Priscilla’s words: “I could not allow Mama to spend a night in jail and she had to have a meal before going home.”
My husband, Max Sisulu, had been in exile for 23 years when we married in Zimbabwe in 1986. He was categorised by SA’s security establishment as “a known ANC terrorist” so I was concerned that I would not get permission to visit Walter Sisulu who was then in Pollsmoor Prison. When I discussed this with MaSisulu during my first visit, she said with complete confidence: “Priscilla will take care of it.”
I went to Priscilla’s office in Abbey House, in Commissioner Street, where I met her assistant, Ilona Tip, who assured me that there was no problem and a few days later I received the permit that enabled me to fly to Cape Town and enjoy a memorable visit with my father-in-law. Going to visit my brother-in-law, Zwelakhe, in Diepkloof prison on a subsequent occasion was a harrowing experience and I deeply appreciated that Ilona was there to handle all the red tape involved in organising these visits.
Reflecting on how indispensable Priscilla was to the Sisulu family, I am in awe of the fact that she was the same to hundreds, if not thousands, of other families. She was famously known as Nelson Mandela’s lawyer. She represented Winnie Mandela during the awful period when she was banished to Brandfort in 1977 and would eventually become one of Mandela’s conduits for information to the ANC. She represented Govan Mbeki and almost all the prisoners on Robben Island.
But her clientele was not confined to the highprofile leaders and activists. The lives of most of the populace under apartheid were so circumscribed by repressive laws that the services of a lawyer were as essential as a family doctor. Priscilla’s office manager and lifelong friend, Ilona, recalled that: “Not only did she fight for them legally, she also extended her assistance to their material needs. That is why she was known as the People’s Lawyer.”
Priscilla conducted herself with ferocity towards the security police and love and compassion towards her clients. She organised food and clothing, funds for family members to visit prisoners, dealing with debt collectors and providing comfort and emotional support.
Ilona described how one prisoner on Robben
Island regretted that he had not collected his favourite jacket from the dry cleaners before his arrest and imprisonment. “Priscilla made sure that we found the dry cleaner and miraculously they had kept the jacket and we were able to collect it and give some cheer to that prisoner.”
It was through this care and generosity that she became the adoptive mother of a beautiful child who she named Albertina after MaSisulu. Priscilla was giving a young activist, Phinda Hashe, a lift to see her husband, Popo Molefe, who was one of the accused in the Delmas Treason Trial. Sensing Phinda’s desperation at having to care for a small baby while at the same time having to cope with police persecution and the prospect of a lengthy prison sentence for the child’s father, Priscilla offered to look after the baby. A few months later Phinda, in her desperation, left the baby at Priscilla’s office.
After Popo Molefe was released from jail after four years, he and Phinda had gone their separate ways and little Tina was so attached to Priscilla and her husband, Reg, that they accepted that she remain with Priscilla and eventually Tina became Albertina Jana Molefe, in touch with all her parents and accepting of her complex history.
I will never forget Priscilla’s joy and excitement when she called to invite us to Tina’s wedding to Frank Chikane (not the struggle stalwart), the son of Moss Chikane. Moss had been one of the co-accused with Popo at the Delmas Trial. The couple married according to Hindu rites by a priest brought all the way from India by Priscilla. I sat next to Tina’s biological mother, Phinda, who spoke about how proud she was of Tina and appreciative of the way Priscilla had raised her. Of course there was a sense of loss but also of immense love and generosity between the two mothers.
As I sat in that room, heavy with the histories of pain and loss experienced not only by Priscilla and Phinda, but also many of the former activists and political prisoners in the room, I felt that Tina and Frank, these two accomplished young Africans whose parents, both adopted and biological, had suffered so much, represented a triumph over the trauma of the past and the best of a new SA.
Priscilla was many more things: underground ANC activist, parliamentarian, ambassador to the Netherlands and later Ireland, human rights commissioner. Her autobiography, Fighting for Mandela , gives some insight into her remarkable life.
I regret that she passed on at a time when all those she helped are not able to gather in numbers to pay tribute to this extraordinary woman. She was such a huge presence in our lives. She will be sorely missed.