Seeing past the Coligny protests
The deep-seated issues behind them need to be unravelled to understand the unfortunate circumstances which led to an untimely death, writes Tutu Faleni
WHEN I was a 14-year-old schoolboy, my family lived in a township which was a walking distance to a farm owned by an Afrikaans-speaking farmer by the name of Jan Scholtz.
What separated Jan Scholtz’s farmhouse and our township was a railway line which we crossed when we went to Scholtz’s farm to buy sheep or cattle for slaughter for our traditional rituals. Scholtz’s boys would enter the township only to deliver cows we would slaughter mainly for funerals or weddings.
There was a mutually beneficial relationship between Jan Scholtz, his family and the township residents. I am told if one was a regular customer of Scholtz he would grant a discount, and in those days you could easily buy a live sheep for R70. The short of it is that Jan Scholtz as a farmer was a good man, and he treated his neighbours well and conducted his business dealings with them in a fair manner.
For us as schoolboys, a peaceful relationship with Jan Scholtz and his family was just not enough. Some afternoons we would sneak out of our homes, cross the railway line and without being seen, help ourselves to fruit found on the trees which bordered Jan Scholtz’s farm.
The adventure and the thrill of walking right next to the farm would win the respect of one’s peers, especially the schoolgirls.
The adventure of creeping into Scholtz’s farm sometimes came with its challenges. The boys on his farm would chase us off riding on the back of their horses. We would run in the direction of the railway line; we knew they would not cross the railway line, simply because their territory was on the other side of it.
The railway line was a symbol of forced separation of communities by the inhuman socio-economic system of apartheid. Our escapades on Jan Scholtz’s farm never resulted in injury or loss of life for any of my school peers.
But news of our adventures at the farm would through the dynamic of rumour reach our teachers and parents. We would then be summoned to the principal’s office to explain what we were doing at Jan Scholtz’s farm. No amount of explanation from our side would save us from the beating by stick on our buttocks.
My parents would deal with our mischief in a rather different manner than just to mete out corporal punishment. They would use gentle persuasion to convince us never to go on a risky adventure of creeping on to Scholtz’s farm. My mom would say, “Leave Scholtz alone, because he does not come to the location to bring you trouble, so why do you go over the railway line to bother a man at his farm?” I would then explain to my mom that we had nothing against Scholtz, all we wanted was the fruit, which we could only get from his farm, which happened to be located in our land.
I was too young a boy to win an argument on farms, white people, apartheid and the land. I simply gave in and decided never to join my friends for escapades at Jan Scholtz’s farm. In my mind, as a township boy, that was the end of my relationship with a white farmer. I just needed good education, to buy my own house and get out of the poverty of township life, and stay away from the likes of Jan Scholtz and their farms.
After many years my dreams came true and I finally bought my own house and moved out of my parents’ house.
A few weeks later, my parents paid me a courtesy visit, and during the visit they made a request that I should slaughter a sheep to inform our ancestors that I have moved into a house of my own.
I respectfully informed them that I lived in a suburb and that there is no Jan Scholtz’s farm where I would just cross the railway line and come back with a sheep. Their word was final and I just had to comply.
A good friend introduced me to Marius, whose parents owned a farm not far from my house.
Eventually I bought a sheep from a farm owned by Marius’s parents so as to slaughter it as directed by my parents. By coincidence, Marius owned a butchery in my neighbourhood where I became his regular customer.
Respectable
Twenty years or so later, circumstances had brought me into a friendly business relationship with an Afrikaans cattle-farming family.
I had thought I was done with the likes of Jan Scholtz, which was by all means a respectable relationship between Scholtz and the township community where I lived.
In the past 15 years, I moved from my first house. I visited a butchery which is on the outskirts of my second home. I walked in to hire a spit braai, and I came face to face with my old acquaintance, Marius, who now owned a modern beautifully laid out butchery.
We could not hold back the excitement of seeing each other after more than a decade. We chatted about wives, children and the fact that soon we will be retired madalas (old men).
After catching up with Marius, my long-lost acquaintance, I went to the comfort of my home to relax and watch TV.
I watched in horror the news of Coligny town being torn apart by violent protests. Television showed images of houses belonging to white farmers or plot owners being burnt by angry black youths. They were protesting against the release of two white men who allegedly murdered Motlhame Mosweu for allegedly stealing sunflowers from a farmer’s property.
There is more to the violent protests in Coligny than meets the eye. The deep-seated socio-econo-political issues need to be unravelled so as to understand the unfortunate circumstances which led to the untimely death of Motlhame Mosweu.
Given our racially divided history, it’s easy to take sides instead of promoting healing and social cohesion. Politicians who stood next to Motlhame Mosweu’s coffin and fanned racial hatred and violence should be condemned for promoting their nefarious political agenda over the lifeless body of a young schoolboy.
On June 16, two men will appear in court to face charges for the death of Feki (as he was affectionately called by those close to him).
The court will vigorously pursue justice and arrive at an outcome which will rarely please everyone.
Our way as South Africans is surely to respect the due processes of the law, irrespective of the outcome of the final judgement of the court.
The people of Coligny shall have found enough reasons to go on with life. All of us as South Africans will still be faced with the onerous task of continuing to build a non-racial South Africa which provides opportunity for all to grow and fulfil their dreams.
As I connect the dots of my positive personal experiences with the Afrikaans-speaking farmers, from Jan Scholtz to Marius, I have hope in my heart that a safe and prosperous South Africa is a reality that we can achieve. It all begins with you.
Faleni (PhD) is a DA member of the North West Provincial Legislature, writing in his personal capacity.