Uncle Kathy – a life moulded to
IN THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN
Many people remember struggle veteran Ahmed Kathrada’s speech at Nelson Mandela’s funeral.
How could the world forget? It was enough to move even the stone-hearted.
We met Uncle Kathy at his flat in Killarney – it is not modern but it is appealing. The walls are not graced with a great number of pictures of his role in the struggle.
But there are two frames and behind the glass are pictures of Mandela and Kathrada, smiling so widely you are certain that it was a good day when the pictures were taken.
And when Uncle Kathy enters the room, he exudes poetic wisdom.
The respect he shows for his own elders will take centre stage later in the conversation.
He is dressed neatly in a buttoned-up collared shirt and trousers. His shoes are shining.
Uncle Kathy takes pride in the neatness of his dress. He is a part of a league of gentlemen that barely exists these days.
After taking his seat, he begins relating his journey from being a young boy who was first homeschooled, through to the days of his political endeavour.
Politely and pleasantly, he goes beyond offering simple insights.
There is no sense of wanting recognition and that is proved in how he words his sentences.
Kathrada played his role when apartheid reared its ugly head – and that is plainly put.
But 26 years of incarceration can’t be taken lightly.
He still ends off his showers with cold water – a habit from his time behind bars for wanting a free and democratic South Africa. A “baptism of cold showers”, he labels it.
Back then, despite being accustomed to warm water – unlike his comrades, who only had cold water in the townships – he did not cave in. “That was where you take your first decision to protect your dignity, because you are not going to give in now. So that was a good lesson.” He remembers being questioned by police before the infamous Rivonia Trial which, 50-years ago, resulted in Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Govan Mbeki, Elias Motsoaledi, Denis Goldberg, Raymond Mhlaba, Kathrada and Andrew Mlangeni being sentenced to life imprisonment. “All they came to do was get information on yourself or on your comrades – or, you were going to die.” “It was difficult, you were alone and not able to talk to your comrades. The only thought in your mind is death. So you thought, do I talk or don’t I talk?” He didn’t and remembers a common trend among his comrades at the time: “You don’t apologise and you don’t ask for mercy.” His brave decision resulted in him being convicted and spending 18 years on Robben Island and the rest at Pollsmoor Prison. “The expectations until the very last day [of the trial] was death. And there was a sigh of relief when the judge said life.” That night they awoke and were put in handcuffs and leg irons. “They put us on the plane and the next morning, we were on Robben Island. We landed on a very cold day.”
At 34, he was the youngest of the seven. His number on the island was 46864.
“All my colleagues wore short trousers because Africans were