Lovedale formed an ANC founder
In this edited extract from ‘From Cattle Herding to Editor’s Chair - A Forgotten Founder of the ANC’, RV Selope Thema explains how the missionary college “lifted the veil of darkness from my eyes”
The thought that I was soon to leave for Lovedale made me enjoy the Christmas of 1905 as I have never enjoyed any Christmas. To me the 21 pounds, the money that opened my way to Lovedale, was a wonderful Christmas gift from God.
In those days [the] Christmas festival among the African people was not merely a time of enjoyment and jollification; it was a time of real thanksgiving to God who had so “loved the world that he gave His only begotten son”. True, there was the slaughtering of sheep and oxen and the feasting on their meat but prayers and praise were the striking features of the festival. It was not the enjoyment that people thought of, but the child who was born to save the world from sin and to free humanity from the slavery of materialism. It was Christ they thought on, Christ who left the glory of heaven and came to earth to die upon the cross in order that mankind be rescued from death – the wages of sin.
That memorable Christmas of 1905, I, in company with other boys, climbed the hill that overlooks Donhill – the hill which at one time was the abode of our gods and the shrine of our people – to sing praises unto the living God.
It was just about dawn and the people of Donhill were still locked in the arms of Morpheus, when we poured forth the sweet hymns of praise and thanksgiving. The singing awakened the village, and soon there was singing all over.
As I write now I can still hear the sweet voices of the people of Donhill ringing in my ears. For it was as if their singing was that of angels proclaiming the birth of Christ, and that impression has never been obliterated from my mind.
Christmas
After celebrating the Christmas of 1905, I packed what little clothing I had and said au revoir to Donhill and proceeded to Lovedale. After what seemed to be a journey to the end of the world, Mr Mpamba and I arrived at Lovedale early in February 1906.
When I saw the great institution with its imposing school buildings, its beautiful avenues lined with oak and pine trees, I felt I was standing on the threshold of a new life.
So it proved to be. Lovedale lifted the veil of darkness from my eyes and made me see life in a different light, it made me see the glory of God’s creation, His greatness and the bounty of his love for the human race; it made me realise the African race was created after the image of God to occupy a nobler place than that of servitude in the affairs of mankind; it opened my eyes and made me see the suffering of my people which caused pangs of pain in my heart and eventually led to my revolt against tyranny and injustice.
This story of how Lovedale opened my eyes and set my mind in motion presents a moving picture in the history of my life. I was a boy of 20 years of age and, as it will be remembered, was just emerging from a barbarous life in the wilds of the Northern Transvaal. Yet when I left Lovedale at the end of 1910 I had ceased to think as a barbarous boy and was already grappling with the problems of civilised life.
This change that came over my life was certainly not due to any brilliance in me but to the genius of the men who directed the destinies of this great centre of learning.
As I had only 12£ (for part of the 21£ had been spent on clothes and my travelling expenses), I could not enter the institution as a boarder. I went to live at the home of Mrs Blake, a kind-hearted old Xhosa who treated me as though I was her own boy.
Mrs Blake was a devoted Christian and in her house I learned to say my prayers regularly. She was a poor woman but one with a great heart and great soul. She never allowed poverty to overshadow her faith in God’s love.
Starvation
I remember a time when the family was threatened with starvation, when indeed we had to go for days without a square meal, that she cheered up the whole family by saying God would provide, and so he did. And one day a brother of mine, Nathaniel by name, sent me 30-shillings with which a bag of maize and a small bag of beans were bought. This, by the way, was the only financial assistance from relations I ever had during my schooldays.
As a day-scholar, I was known among the boys as a “jaguar”, and that troubled and annoyed me very much indeed; for to me it meant that I was a wild boy. It reminded me of the wild life that I had lived before embracing the Christian religion. For this reason I hated being called “jaguar”. I know I was wild, and that is perhaps the reason why I took offence. It is human nature to object to being called what one is. I have seen men, both black and white, who like to be called “gentlemen” when their behaviour and conduct do not suggest any trait of gentleness in their nature. There are drunkards who object to being called drunkards, liars who resent being regarded as liars and humbugs who would like to be known as honest men.
I must confess, however, that this Jaguar business did me a lot of good. It made me redouble my efforts in my search for light and knowledge. It kindled in my heart a burning desire to prove that although I did not have the advantages and opportunities which other boys had, nevertheless I was as good as they.
I was admitted to Standard V and the day I entered the classroom, I made my presence felt. There was no lesson given by the teacher which I did not understand. This naturally won the admiration and affection of some of my classmates who realised that although a “Jaguar” I was a boy of some ability.
The Standard V class was divided into two sections – one under the late John Ntshona, who at the time of his death in 1930 held an important post under the Bhunga in the Transkei, and the other under the late Maben Mocher, at one time the principal of a coloured school at Springs.
These men left no stone unturned in their endeavour to impart to the students the knowledge which Lovedale had given them. It was they who introduced me into the life of that great institution.
At the end of the year I passed my examinations and was one of the boys who secured the annual prizes. This achievement gave me a sort of status among schoolmates, and made them afraid of calling me “Jaguar”, at least in my hearing.
Standard VI was under Chief Shadrach Zibi, the founder of Kayakulu settlement in the Rustenburg district; but owing to the increase in the numbers of students Mr KA Hobart Houghton, who later became Inspector of Native Education in the Cape, had to cooperate with him as headmaster.
Under the direction of these two men the class made wonderful progress, so much so that at the end of the year more than half the students passed their examinations and took the academic course instead of the usual normal one. I was one of the students who passed and received some of the annual prizes.
But a dark cloud oppressed me. My funds were exhausted.
There was no alternative but to leave Lovedale. I felt absolutely disgusted with life. The thought that I would not return to Lovedale at the beginning of 1908 troubled me very much indeed. Dejected and hopeless, I decided to go to Johannesburg to look for work.
One day, however, an announcement was made that bursary examinations would be held for those who had passed standard VI and who intended to take the academic course. At once I saw my chance. I sent in my name. The examination was held just a week before the college closed and the results would not be known until some time after closing day.
In the meantime, I proceeded to Johannesburg, applied for a job at the pass office, and was taken and placed in the Finger Impression Department.
At the end of the month, to my great joy, a letter came from Mr Hobart Houghton congratulating me for having won the Hutton scholarship. Immediately after that a wire came from Dr James Henderson, then principal of Lovedale, urging me to return at once.
This good news filled my heart with joy. I rejoiced and praised the Lord for His tender mercies. Without wasting time I gave notice to leave at the end of February.
What I saw during the time I was employed at the Pass Office – I mean the ill-treatment of Africans – affected my heart and stirred my soul. I went back to Lovedale determined to drink deeper and deeper from the fountain of knowledge so that after I had left Lovedale I would be of some service to my downtrodden people.
Although I did not know exactly what I would do to bring about the amelioration of the conditions of my people, I felt that something should be done.
At the end of 1909 I was one of 20 students who passed the school higher examinations and joined the matriculation class.
When I returned to Lovedale at the beginning of 1910, Mr Houghton advised me to take shorthand, typewriting and office routine as part of my training. This I did and have never regretted doing it; for I have always found this equipment useful. In the first office where I was employed as a clerk at Pietersburg, my knowledge of typewriting proved of great service to me and so was my knowledge of office routine.
In Mr RW Msimang’s office in Johannesburg, I used both shorthand and typewriting. This training also helped me a great deal during the time I was general secretary of the African National Congress.
In those days, Lovedale had a very bad name among the bulk of the European population of the Transvaal; for it was taken for granted that every educated African was the product of Lovedale institution. This attitude, no doubt, was due to the idea then prevailing, that Africans were not taught “the dignity of labour” at the higher educational institutions.
Lovedale, and for that matter, any African training college, does not spoil Africans. On the contrary, it makes them good citizens of South Africa and an asset for the future industrial and commercial development of the country.
Work is part of the educational programme of Lovedale. Students are made to work with their hands as they are made to work with their brains. The beautiful avenues of Lovedale lined with oak and pine trees are the creation of the labour of students, particularly the senior students. As a student of the college department I worked very hard at road-making, treeplanting and bridge-making.
Lovedale not only gave me book education and taught me the dignity of labour, but it also taught me how to be [a] useful citizen of South Africa. Character building is an essential part of the programme of education at Lovedale.
Every Wednesday morning during my day, the students assembled in front of the main building to listen to addresses by the principal, a member of staff or a prominent visitor either from this country or Great Britain and the United States. The keynote of these addresses was that education without character was of no value. To me these addresses were of great significance; they made me aspire for the higher things in life; they made me want to be like one of the great men who were often the subject of the addresses.
One was Booker T Washington, a Negro leader who emerged from slavery to eminence in American history. I wanted to be like him in every respect... a great orator as he was, able to speak before European audiences on behalf of my people as he did on behalf of the Negroes of the United States.
Burning passion
This became the burning passion of my life after I heard the inspiring and moving story of his life. I never thought at the time this dream of mine would ever be realised. I am still not an orator, but I have spoken before European audiences; I have pleaded the cause of my downtrodden race before “the fairest women” of South Africa, before prominent white men and women of this and other countries.
At this time I was becoming more interested in the welfare of my race. The treatment meted out to Africans in the Transvaal had stirred my very soul and fired my imagination.
My heart was weighed down with hatred and anger but I did not really despair; for at the time the National Convention of European statesmen was sitting in secret at Durban or Cape Town, and there was a general feeling that the deliberations of the wise men who were discussing the question of unifying the four colonies – the Cape, the Orange Free State, the Transvaal and Natal – would bring about a union in which the liberal policy of the Cape would prevail.
It was with surprise and sorrow that I discovered when the proceedings became public property that [there] would be no change in the conditions of the African people in the Northern colonies, and that no one except of European descent would be a member of the Union parliament.
This was a great blow which shattered my hopes and made me feel like fighting. I still remember the address of Dr Henderson from the steps of the main building in which he tried to console the students by telling them that though things seemed dark and gloomy there was still hope that eventually the policy of the Cape would be extended to the North.
My temper
Needless to say this explanation, although it cooled down my temper, did not satisfy me. Somehow I had a feeling that it was the policy of the North which would eventually extend to the South. I was right, as events afterwards proved.
Things were moving fast in South Africa. Something new was taking place in the Transvaal. Alfred Mangena returned from England where he had studied law at Lincoln’s Inn, London, and applied to the High Court of the Transvaal for admission as an attorney. The matter evoked a storm of protest from all sides.
Meanwhile the Cape Africans and coloured people were up in arms against the clause in the draft constitution of the Union of South Africa which made it impossible for non-Europeans to become members of parliament.
Funds were raised for the purpose of sending a deputation to England to protest against such discrimination and violation of the principles of British rule. The deputation consisted of Messrs John Tengo Jabavu, WP Schreiner, TM Mapikela, S Ndwanya, [Matthew] Fredericks, and Drs [W] Rubusana and A Abdurahman.
The fight for justice and freedom had begun, and to me it was a turning point in my life. I felt at once that my duty led me into the ranks of fighters. And so before leaving Lovedale at the end of 1910 I had enlisted in the army of freedom and justice.
RV Selope Thema’s “From Cattle Herding to Editor’s Chair – A Forgotten Founder of the ANC” (Kwela Books) is available from bookstores nationwide and online