Welcome to CraigLockBooks.com. How to Succeed in Life, with Money, and on the Internet!
Hello and Welcome! I'm Craig Lock. Welcome to CraigLockBooks.com! "He who cherishes a beautiful
vision, a lofty ideal in his heart,
will one day realize it.
Dream lofty dreams and as you
dream so shall you become."
- James Allen

This site is best viewed with
Microsoft IE at 800x600 

Godzone and Craig Lock bring you...

A tale of the many people in the rainbow nation of New South Africans.
Craig Lock
Sitemap is here

The New Rainbow Book. Available in Soft Cover or Electronic Versions - Click Here to Order!

Sea and sand
My love My land,
God bless Africa.

Sea and sand
My love My land,
God bless Africa.

But more the South of Africa where we live...

Bless the angry mountains
And the smiling hills
Where the cool water spills
To heal the earth's brow

Bless the children of South Africa
The white children
And the black children
But more the black children
Who lost the sea and sand
That they may not lose love
For white children
Whose fathers raped the land...

Sea and sand
My love My land,
God bless Africa

Many sunsets 
Gold and crimson
Have dripped on the horizon,
Weeping for the dying day.

Many dawns
Have risen
In timely resurrection
From their cradles of light.

Sunsets and dawns
Dawns and sunsets.
I have seen them all

But when,
Oh when will I see that day
When love will walk the common way
To heal my wounded people
And break the shackles around their hearts?

- Don Mattera

     I loved the poem above by South African poet, Don Mattera and wrote it down when I first saw it some years ago.
Sadly, Don Mattera was banned for many many years by the government - so too many South Africans have not had
the privilege of seeing his words in print. I do not know the book (nor the publisher), so please accept my apology.

But pleasures are like poppies spread -
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river -
A moment white - then melts forever;

Or like the Borealis race,
That flit e're you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.

Tam O' Shanter Robbie Burns

The Main Characters
The New Rainbow
Author's Note

     Chapter 1: Carol and Geoffrey
     Chapter 2: Jay and Prem
     Chapter 3: Jabulani Nzimande and family
     Chapter 4: Vuyo and Jabulani Nzimande
     Much, much more....

     Complete information on how to get Craig Lock's book,
The New Rainbow, is at the bottom. Available in soft cover
and also in electronic format. You could be reading the whole book in 24 hours! Special Bonus on soft cover orders!


This work is dedicated to the "rainbow nation" of South Africans, 
whom I hope may live in peace and prosperity in the new dawn.

It is especially dedicated to my good buddies Lynda and Donovan, who kept faith during the 
dark days of Apartheid, and who are now rejoicing in the birth of the Rainbow Nation.

Thanks to my beloved wife Marie for giving me the time, opportunity and encouragement to write.

Thanks also Marie for helping me with the descriptive bits, as well as the
immense task of proofreading this and all my many other works.

Also my heartfelt thanks to the beautiful tranquil South Sea paradise of New Zealand, that gave me the peace of mind
and space to use my imagination. It is the ultimate antithesis to vibrant passionate South Africa. Here in Gisborne
nothing else much happens in my life, other than writing; so that's what I do. Thanks for the opportunity, Gisborne.

Thanks to the many people of South Africa of all colors and creeds who gave me the inspiration to write about them.
This work is dedicated to you all.

Carol and Geoffrey Clark
Jay and Prem Naidoo
Gawie and Hettie Van Rooyen
Willem Koekemoer
Johnny and Miriam Fortuin
Vuyo and Jabulani Nzimande

The New Rainbow


     It was a cold winter's day on the southern tip of Africa that day in August 1950. But then it was mid-winter in Cape
Town; one of those depressingly overcast days of wind and driving rain. It was blowing a gale from the north-west and
False Bay was very choppy, covered with large swells and white seahorses. The colored fisherman from Kalk Bay
would have to stay at home today.

     Yet Donald and Mary Clark were well protected from the elements in the snug False Bay Hospital in Fish Hoek, a
comfortable white suburb about twenty five kilometers south of Cape Town along the main railway line. It lay close to
the naval harbor of Simonstown, that could be seen across the bay in the distance.

    Simonstown was often the host to Royal Navy ships from Britain...even though the war had ended some years back.

     Inside the hospital it was warm and cozy. Mrs. Clark had just produced twins and was exhausted from the ordeal -
both physically and emotionally. Both parents were ecstatic at producing their first children, twins, who would be great
mates to each other. How exciting! That was rather strange for Mr. Clark, as he never got excited about anything much
- except the bank where he worked and his golf, which he played at Simonstown every Saturday afternoon.

     Life was pretty good when Carol and Geoffrey, as the twins were named, were small. After all, the two-some were
born in 1950, just two years after Dr D F Malan's National Party had narrowly defeated Jan Smuts's United Party. It 
was a great surprise to most English speaking South Africans like the twin's parents, Donald and Mary. Nevertheless
life carried on much as before - just as they remembered their childhood years in Cape Town. Life was comfortable and
privileged; they were never short of anything. Not that the twins new anything about it. Of course, they were a bit young
to appreciate the joys of life in Cape Town.

     Father Donald had worked very hard at the bank since he left school and he had been a manager for many years,
about fifteen in fact. He had had many positions around the suburbs of Cape Town. Donald had always declined the
offers of promotion to larger branches in other provinces, because that would mean moving to the Transvaal. The Clark
family were 'Capies' born and bred, and did not want to leave the laid-back 'fairest Cape'. They lived very comfortably,
so they were not tempted by the promise of more money.

     Mary was the loyal and adoring housewife, standing by Donald (but always behind him) in his career. She was
always so proper at those boring bank functions. She said just the right things to Donald's bosses. Donald and Mary
were well liked by the bosses at the bank and did quite a bit of entertaining at home. There was an expense account
for that and friends dropped in frequently. So the family were well off and never lacked for anything. They had a very
comfortable four-bed roomed home in Fish Hoek up on the hill overlooking the beach. Of course, Donald was well
respected in the village as befitted the high status of a bank manager.

     So the children, Carol and Geoffrey, had a great upbringing living near the beach. Mom often took them down there
as little children. It did get a bit windy at times, but no matter. It was great fun building sandcastles and frolicking in 
the water with shrieks of delight.

     After a few years they started going to school at Fish Hoek Primary school. With the children off her hands Mary
found a part-time job at a local florist shop. The people were friendly and she enjoyed the human contact being out of
the home, after all those years of being a good mother to her children.

     Carol and Geoffrey had a happy upbringing in "the village" of Fish Hoek. They had many friends, so that birthday
parties with both groups of boys and girls, (clearly separated), were a bit harrowing for Mary. There were always fights
and teasing, and sometimes tears...but still great fun was had by all.

     After school they were always down at the beach, a stone's throw from the house: swimming and riding their
boogey-boards in the gentle surf. If it was too windy, they would go round to the "catwalk", the pathway along the rocks
which was protected by the mountain behind it, where it was very sheltered from the prevailing wind, the strong
south-easter. There they would go snorkeling off the rocks with their friends.

     Carol was particularly interested in the sea-life. She spent hours and hours exploring the rock pools. She was
always very interested in examining sea-urchins, starfish and other creatures from the sea - her eyes agape in
absorption. She was a very gentle girl, always carefully putting the 'creature' back into the water exactly as she had
found it. She loved looking at the seals when they came close to the rocks. Once a year a few whales came into Fish
Hoek bay for calving (she thought it was February or March), and Carol would be transfixed for hours on end gazing out
to sea.

     She didn't like fishing one little bit. Carol preferred to go for solitary walks along the long stretch of white sandy
beach rather than go fishing with brother Geoffrey and his little mates.

     The family never lacked for anything. Mary was a great housewife and cook. She did have some help from Doris, a
colored 'char' who came in three times a week to do the ironing and washing.

     Donald played golf every weekend (Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning). It was good for business contacts...
and he enjoyed it. He wasn't that good, though he occasionally came home with a small prize, like a toaster which he
beamingly presented to Mary. She was so proud of her Donald - a wonderful provider to the Clark family. With not much
spare time he wasn't very much into gardening (and he had no interest in plants), so an African garden boy came every
Saturday early in the morning. He worked hard all day making flower beds, cutting hedges, moving large boulders from
the large garden and all those numerous other gardening chores that have to be done...because Mary and Donald were
very proud of their home - especially when the boss from the bank or other important clients came to visit.

     There always seemed to be work for the 'boy' to do. Fanie had been referred to them by a neighbor, Mr. Van
Eyssen. Both Doris and Fanie were treated well by the Clark's. They had been with the family for some years already,
still they did have their special enamel cups and plates - set aside purely for their own use.

     Carol and Geoffrey didn't have much to do with the servants when they were very young. Doris was very friendly to
the twins; though Geoffrey didn't much like being picked up and hugged by Doris ...while Carol seemed to rather enjoy
it. However, as she got older, Carol used to talk to both Doris and Fanie about their homes and families. She was
always interested in them and concerned when a family member was ill.

     Carol's brother was very different to her. Geoffrey was more like his father, perhaps a little dull for a young boy. He
did enjoy his cricket and rugby at school, although he was not very good. He loved mechanical things and anything
scientific. Geoffrey was always taking things apart and loved reading. As he grew older he started spending more and
more time at the local library. Fish Hoek Primary was a co-educational school and a few of the boys and girls teased
him a little about being a 'Bennie boekwurm' (a bookworm).

     As he grew older he withdrew more and more into himself. He played his sport because he had to, but without any
enthusiasm. He was most enthusiastic when taking gadgets apart. The only time Geoffrey became animated was
whilst reading about science.

     Life continued in suburban comfort for the Clark family as the children grew up rapidly. Mary Clark had now opened
up her own florist's shop in the high street, which was doing rather well. Then that could have been expected, as Mary
always had a smile for everybody and she worked hard, being a conscientious person.

     When Carol and Geoffrey were eleven (it was the 31st of May 1961), South Africa, after being a member of the
Commonwealth for many years, was declared a Republic. The Prime Minister, Dr. Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, had
called a referendum and this resulted in a narrow victory for the pro-republicans. And that was rather fortunate, 
because the Commonwealth was about to dismiss South Africa on account of it's racial policies anyway.

    It was a public holiday that end of May day in the year of 1961, so all the schoolchildren in South Africa (at least the
white ones) were very happy. The previous day everybody had been given paper flags. They were the orange, white and
blue of the new South African Republic. There was to be a celebration in the center of Cape Town the following day.

     The Mayor and some other Government Ministers drove down Adderley Street in their big black limousines,
escorted by a posse of traffic police on their gleaming motorcycles. Carol and Geoffrey stood waving their flags with
broad smiles on their innocent faces, while their parents told them to stay where they were, while they went off to have
some tea. After all, there was such a huge crowd of white and brown faces and they didn't want to lose their 'precious'
children. Carol was not aware of the absence of many black schoolchildren - the thought never crossed her child-like

     Though that event must have made some impression on young Carol Clark, because afterwards she started asking
her parents about South Africa. Why was it now a Republic? What did her parents think about it? Carol had such an
inquiring little mind.
And she kept on asking more and more questions, but like so many other South Africans, they
didn't have the answers.

     The Clark's were very apolitical; after all, politics was for the Afrikaners. They controlled the country now, and had
done so since 1948. Anyway, what was going to happen was going to happen and there was nothing you could do.
That was for the politicians and not ordinary people like Donald Clark. He had a job to do at the bank and was making
good money providing for his dear family. Life just carried on - so why bother oneself with such things?

     So Carol did not learn much about the history of her country from her doting parents. History lessons at school were
quite interesting though. Carol learned how the representative from the Dutch East India Company, Jan Van Riebeeck,
had arrived from Holland in 1652 to set up a victualling (refueling) station at the Cape. On the way to trade spices in the
East Indies his descendants then set out to colonize the untamed wilds of Southern Africa by getting away from the
"liberal" British colony. The British apparently had wanted to abolish slavery, and the colonists were extremely worried.

     In her school history lessons Carol was very interested in the battles with the black peoples who had migrated
southwards and who came into hostile conflict with the "trekking" settlers who had gone north over the high mountains
of the Cape Colony. Most of these fierce battles took place near the Great Fish River on the eastern frontier of the
Cape colony.

     Her teacher Mr. Prinsloo knew so much. He obviously enjoyed his job and he made history lessons so interesting.
Carol always looked forward to them; it was her favorite subject. Carol was captivated by the stories of the 'trekboers'
making their way to the Orange Free State and then on to Natal, where Piet Retief and his band of 'boers' were
betrayed and slaughtered at the Zulu chief Dingaan's kraal (encampment).

     The Battle of Blood River captivated Carol. The small crowd of 'boers' who had put their ox-wagons in a circle and
defended themselves against the hordes of attacking Zulu impis. These devoutly religious Afrikaners had made a
Covenant with their God the night before the attack. They were a God-fearing people who had utmost faith in the
Almighty and their subsequent fate. The nearby river ran red with blood after the slaughter of the Zulus armed only with
their 'assegaais' (spears) against the might of the 'boers' firepower. And that is why it was subsequently known as the
Battle of Blood River and was celebrated as a public holiday by white South Africa.

     Mr. Prinsloo knew so much about the subject and it was obviously very important to his heritage. Carol Clark greatly
admired the courage, stoicism and the fortitude of these 'trekboers'. The formation of the Boer Republics in the
Transvaal and the Orange Free State made her inquiring mind ask her parents many questions about the Afrikaners.
They didn't seem to know much though, as all their friends were English-speaking and they had forgotten most of what
they had learned in school history many years before. The Clarks had had virtually no contact with Afrikaans speaking
South Africans, as Fish Hoek was almost exclusively an English speaking suburb... and there were no Afrikaners at
the Standard Bank in the 'Hoek'.

     Carol also enjoyed the tales of her ancestors: the working class settlers who had come out from England in 1820 
for a better life in South Africa. They had landed at the place that is now known as Port Elizabeth in Algoa Bay and had
settled in the eastern Cape as farmers. Life must have been very hard for them in a hostile and harsh new land, Carol
thought...as the pioneers came alive in her imagination. The British settlers too had many battles with the black natives
along the frontier, who were also searching for grazing land. A number of forts had been built by the English along the
banks of the Great Fish River. Life was so very tough for those hardy pioneers, her forefathers...

     Carol started speaking to the garden boy Fanie, asking him questions about his home and family. He lived in the
far-off township of Guguletu in a brick house. His wife Agatha worked as a domestic servant for a family in Claremont.
Fanie had a number of jobs and worked every day. They had a large family of eight children from 4 months to 14 years
of age. The traveling expenses took up a lot of their money; bus fares were so expensive these days - prices were
always going up. That was why he and Agatha had to work so hard, so Fanie told Carol. Both Fanie and Agatha were
good Christians who went to church in Guguletu regularly. They were hardworking good people who were determined to
give all of their children a solid education - the best that they could do on their limited income. Every Sunday the
Mufamadi's went to church.

     Carol was very interested in learning all these details about the gardener's family. She soon began to see for herself
that her life had been very privileged. She and her family lived in a very different world to Fanie and Agatha Mufamadi.

     Carol Clark was a very happy and exuberant young girl, yet often so serious. As she grew up she still loved all living
things of nature; she was a sensitive person who couldn't hurt a fly. Carol was studious and she did very well at school,
especially in biology. She was always near the top of her class.

     One day at school a boy ran through a plate glass window and cut himself very badly. There was blood everywhere,
and Carol and her friends were first on the scene. The other girls screamed hysterically; but Carol calmly tended to the
wounds and got one of the girls to call a teacher. She firmly got the others removed as they were only upsetting the
shocked boy. Her calm presence and responsible demeanor showed that she was one of those rare people who would
go far in life.

     She become a prefect in her final two years of school and she obtained a good university pass. Her parents wanted
her to study medicine at the University of Cape Town; but Carol wanted to help people by being a social worker, so she
studied social science. She was by now very attractive with her fine soft young features, her long light brown hair and
sparkling hazel green eyes. She was never short of male attention, so was often invited out on dates. Her effervescent
personality and caring nature made her very popular with everyone. However, Carol was very selective with whom she
went out, often politely refusing invitations from irresponsible and immature young boys.

     Her brother Geoffrey, meanwhile plodded away at his studies. He was very conscientious, studying till late every
evening; but without much personality. He tried very hard at school and got good marks without being at the very top.
He rather liked math's and science. Geoffrey wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life after school finished, as he
had no particular aptitude nor interest. His parents wanted him to go to university to get a qualification, but he wanted
to travel overseas in a few years time, then decide on a career later.

     After Geoffrey matriculated (with a second-class pass), Donald Clark helped his son get a job through a business
colleague. It was at the Standard Bank in Muizenberg, a few kilometers down the road and on the main rail line to
Cape Town.

     Meanwhile Carol had graduated with her Social Science degree after three years and she soon had a job with
SHAWCO, the Students' Health and Welfare Organization. One of her first jobs was calling on households in District
Six, a suburb near central Cape Town, to find out how many families were living below the minimum "poverty line". 
This was the selfsame District Six that had gained such notoriety (throughout the world). It had been the home to a
vibrant community of colored people, but it was rife with violent gangs and crime. The Nationalist government had
declared the area to be a slum and had ordered the entire district to be cleared out. Most of the colored families who
had lived there for generations were to be removed (transplanted) to a desolate windswept plain along the coastline
about 25 kilometers away - very far from their places of work. The area was to be rezoned as an estate for up and
coming young white 'professional people'.

     So when Carol knocked on the doors of the houses in District Six there was a great deal of understandable
apprehension about the impending removals. Sometimes even an initial touch of hostility. Nevertheless Carol got the
information for the survey speedily and efficiently from each household she called on through her caring good nature.
Many of the houses were very meager and cramped; conditions were generally pretty squalid and sparsely furnished.
However, no matter what were the family's financial constraints, the houses were always neat and brightly decorated:
vases of bright orange and yellow plastic chrysanthemums on rickety hall tables and invariably a shadow box filled
with a brightly colored collection of ornaments.

     Religion obviously played a very big part in the life of the coloured community and most houses displayed a picture
in a prominent position of Jesus Christ comforting small children. Maybe the inhabitants tried to forget the misery of
their squalid surroundings, the non existent plumbing, leaking roofs and rotten floor-boards by filling their homes with
brightness and color and laughter and music. There was always a Hi-Fi stereo system, often blaring out its voice...and
many small children shouting to make themselves heard above the noise. Sometimes there were three or four children
sharing a bedroom and generally the houses were very overcrowded. Often a number of families lived together under
the one roof...on a mere pittance.

     SHAWCO were very pleased with Carol's work. She also collected and distributed food and clothes for the needy at
the depot in Retreat. She traveled about the slums of low cost housing: big blocks of flats set in the desolate
wind-swept sand of the Cape Flats.

     Carol enjoyed her social work and was popular with her colleagues - all very caring people, but also found it
emotionally draining. The sad cases of poverty and violence against women and children left her distraught and feeling
helpless. There was so little one person could do in the face of such immense socio-economic problems. So after a
few years she decided to take up her original choice of nursing. She enrolled with her good friend Jane at the Mowbray
Nursing College where she studied for a number of years. Being a a very active sort of person, she continued doing
some part-time voluntary social work, although there wasn't much spare time after her nursing duties and studies were

     Carol's parents wanted her to become a doctor and offered to pay her very expensive university fees. She was very
grateful for their kind offer and thought about it carefully; but it did not take long before realizing that nursing was her
real calling. Being a sensitive, compassionate person, she wanted to care for sick people. That was what she wanted
to do with her life, most of all.

     Always a champion of the under-privileged, Carol eventually found her skills as a nurse desperately needed and
much appreciated at the SACLA (South African Church Leadership
Association) clinic at Crossroads. The huge
squatter camp lay on the outskirts of the metropolis of Cape Town on the Cape Flats. It was another world away from
the leafy white suburbs on the slopes of Table Mountain, which could be seen far in the distance.

     The clinic was an amazing collection of 'buildings', constructed out of a variety of unconventional materials such as
sheets of hardboard, corrugated iron and corrugated cardboard. It was a hive of frantic activity, as volunteer doctors,
medical students and nurses sought to administer to seemingly endless queues of the ill, burnt and injured Africans
 - all waiting patiently for their turn to be attended. The work was hard and tiring - suturing, cleaning wounds, dressing
burns, yet a wonderful and exhilarating experience. Carol felt that at last she was doing something really worthwhile
and she was very happy at the SACLA clinic. The atmosphere at the clinic was one of enthusiasm and goodwill, and
at no stage did Carol feel her life was endangered; although her family constantly feared for her safety - especially
when imminent rumors were heard that "the natives would be rioting".

     The patients greatly appreciated the efforts of the volunteers, both white and black. Carol loved her work and the
friendly people working there at the SACLA clinic. Nothing would stop her on her mission...

     Meanwhile, in the intervening years Geoffrey worked for a time at the bank, before flying off to London to meet up
with some friends who had been living there for a while. He did a camping tour around Europe for six weeks; but he
didn't like the crowds and the cold, so he returned home after a few months. He was very efficient at his job, so
fortunately the bank had held the position open for him. He returned to the Muizenberg branch of the Standard Bank,
where he stayed for many years living in suburbia...


     Jay Naidoo was born at Tongaat, north of Durban on Natal's North Coast. The area was named Natal by the
Portuguese explorer, Bartholomew Dias who discovered it. Dias came ashore on Christmas Day sometime in the
fifteenth century. A new land was born and that is why the region was called Natal, the Portuguese word for 'birth'.
Tongaat lay about 1000 miles north-east of Cape Town, which was at the very southern tip of Africa. This rural area of
Natal was very different to Cape Town. The climate was subtropical, which suited the million or so people of Indian
extraction living in that province.

     Jay was a very large baby, the middle child born in the large Naidoo family. The family had lived in Tongaat up the
coast north of Durban for many years. Mr. Bala Naidoo ran a shop in Tongaat selling all kinds of 'nick-nacks' and
spices, as well as a huge assortment of assorted items which covered nearly every square inch of the tiny shop. It was
a typical Indian trading store.. which did very well through sheer hard work. Bala's ancestors had come out to South
Africa from India in the late 1800's and they had worked very hard as laborers in the sugar cane fields of Natal. It had
been back-breaking work under the hot sub-tropical African sun. So Mr. Naidoo had had a good start in life, having
inherited the genes of his hard-working ancestors.

     Straight after school he had worked in his father's shop, as he had been working there in the school holidays for
years. His father Perumal had then set him up in business for himself soon afterwards, and the shop in Tongaat had
done very well. Jay's father Perumal had a great friend and business partner, Mr. Singh, who lived in nearby Verulam.
Mr. Singh had a very pretty and elegant daughter named Prem. She was tall and slim with dark brown eyes and long
black hair. Prem was a quiet and very well mannered young lady who rarely spoke unless spoken to. The Naidoo's
liked her demure politeness; but then she came from a good Indian family and all good girls were like that.

     Jay enjoyed going along with his parents to visit the Singh's, especially so that he could see Prem. Although he did
not spend any time alone with Prem (it was strictly forbidden by their parents), Jay rather liked her quiet demeanor.

     In the meantime, business was going very well for the Naidoo's and the Singh's. Mr. Naidoo had opened up another
branch in Durban itself. It was at the Indian market in Grey Street at the top end of the Durban central business district,
running off the main Smith Street. It was a very colorful area with a great variety of shops and stalls, packed with
hordes of shoppers hunting for bargains. The noise was mind-blowing; hawkers and shop keepers vying with each other
in strident tones to part the serious shoppers and streams of tourists from their hard-earned rands. People were always
bargaining in loud voices. There was a wonderful aroma of garlic, curry powder and spices permeating the air. Stalls
were ablaze with colorful displays of exotic-looking materials, shiny brassware, intricate leather and cane ware. You
could buy just about anything there - from hot, spicy samoosas, to brass vases and brightly hued saris. It was a
wonderfully chaotic place - a little touch of India flourishing in South Africa.

     So it was not surprising that business was going exceptionally well for the Naidoo's, and Perumal was very pleased.
Jay was a very big boy who was over 6 feet tall when he was only 13, and weighed well over 180 lbs when he was 16.
He worked very hard at school and studied at his desk in his bedroom every evening. Jay would study late into the 
night before examinations; but he didn't just cram. He was naturally intelligent and worked steadily throughout the year.
Jay became the top matriculant at Tongaat High School. His parents were very pleased with him; but then the other
younger children, Harry, and his sister, Lutchmee, also worked hard at school and did well in their exams.

     From a very young age Jay had always wanted to become a doctor and his parents had encouraged this idea. 
Good money and status in the community. Mr. Naidoo senior had wanted to be a doctor himself, but his parents did
not have the money; so he had to go and work in his father's shop from a young age.

     So it was natural that immediately after he matriculated from Tongaat High School, Jay Naidoo enrolled at the Indian
university of Durban-Westville to study medicine. He enjoyed university life, although it was very hard work...but he was
used to that. He drove in from Tongaat daily in the blue Audi that his father had bought him. There wasn't much time for
a social life though; there was always so much work to do, as well as projects to be completed. Being such a
conscientious student and having so many deadlines, he had no time to think about girls. Other than the occasional
visit to the Singh's which he enjoyed...because that Mr. Singh's daughter, Prem was rather nice.

     However, Jay did not know that the Singh's had the same feelings about the son of their good friends, the Naidoo's.
So it was whilst Jay was in his first year of study that his parents and the Singh's decided to arrange the marriage
between Jay and Prem, as is the Indian custom. There were frequent visits
to their opulent home in Mr. Naidoo's gold
Mercedes Benz on the road through the gentle hills and cane fields between Tongaat and Verulam. After all, there were
so many arrangements to be made and it was not everyday that there was a wedding between the Singh and the
Naidoo families.

     The couple were married with a large ceremony. They were a very popular and handsome couple who had many
friends present. It must have cost a fortune, but Mr. Naidoo was very happy to make it an occasion to remember - as
well as an opportunity to impress his friends and business acquaintances with his generous nature. The ceremony was
held in the Verulam town hall, the only building large and grand enough to accommodate the several hundred guests.

     The bride and groom were married on the flower bedecked stage. The festivities lasted well into the night, guests
feasting on mounds of succulent chicken Tandoori and an assortment of hot and spicy curries. There was a bewildering
array of only the very best and tastiest delicacies. Then there had to be... because anybody who was anybody in the
Natal Indian community was there amongst the several hundred guests. The Naidoo's and the Singh's looked on so
proudly at the happy and radiant couple. They were sure that they would have a very long, happy and prosperous life

     Jay continued with his studies diligently, while Prem supported him working as a librarian at the main Durban library
in the center of town. Jay did his housemanship at the R.K. Khan Hospital in Durban and he enjoyed working in the
wards helping the sick and injured. They lived with Jay's parents in their luxurious house for a short while. Eventually
he graduated as one of the top medical students from the University of Natal-Westville.

     In the meantime Jay and Prem had moved to Chatsworth, just outside Durban, to be closer to the University, as
well as the library in the center of town in West Street, where Prem worked. Chatsworth was one of those areas
reserved for Indians under the hated and infamous Group Areas Act. It was a very ordinary middle class suburb south 
of Durban along the freeway. There they bought a meager little house - it was comfortable but small. Jay's father had
lent them the money to buy the house and Prem made it very homely. She was good with the furnishings and they
decorated it nicely on their "shoestring budget".

     There was a group of doctors in a practice just down the road from their home. Jay had done some work for them as
a locum in his spare time just before he graduated. They had been impressed with his work and Dr. Govender had
offered him a job. So immediately upon graduation Jay was working for himself. The practice was doing very well and
the other doctors were greatly impressed with Jay's professional work. The patients also liked his calm easy-going
manner. He was very meticulous in his diagnoses and a friendly person, just like his parents, Bala and Fatima Naidoo.

     Prem was very happy with married life. It was what she had always wanted and she had always liked the young,
suave, handsome son of Mr. and Mrs. Naidoo - even from when she was a young girl. Prem was a couple of years
younger than Jay. She loved running her delicate hands through Jay's thick black hair with the little curls at the nape of
his neck. Prem was very subservient to Jay, as is the Indian custom; though she was never as timid as her mother's
generation. Mrs. Singh used to hold the telephone for her father and dial the numbers for him. But that was a woman's
place and he had been very spoilt by his mother. Also Prem did not withdraw to the kitchen when Jay's many
men-friends arrived. She was always the gracious hostess making everybody feel very warm and welcome in her quiet
and dignified way. She was also a good cook, offering the guests the tasty delicacies that she had made: curries with
sambaals and popadums, chicken Tandoori, breyanis and many other spicy dishes.

     Jay and Prem were quite content, very happy as they entered the first stages of married life in their early twenties.
Prem was a warm loving person who totally idolized her husband and Jay did the same to his beloved wife. They had a
good social life with friends often dropping in on them. Weekends were very busy working in the home and also spent
visiting friends and relatives (both their families were very big). There wasn't much spare time as the practice was going
so well. Jay was often called out in the dead of night - but his patients were never too much trouble for him.

     Life was very good to them and the Naidoo's were most happy in Durban. A few years passed, then Jay was phoned
by a friend who had graduated in the same class as he. Ishmail offered him a position in the very prestigious group
practice in which he was senior partner. However, the position was in Rylands Estate in Cape Town, another world over
a thousand kilometers away. There was a very good chance that Jay would become a senior partner within a couple of
years. The offer was extremely tempting, as Jay knew that he would have to work for years in his present practice
before becoming a senior partner; besides, he needed a challenge and it all sounded very exciting. He discussed the
offer with Prem who was naturally very apprehensive about moving away from her family and many friends to far off
Cape Town .. with its "grotty" climate where she knew not a soul. Jay's parents too were upset to think of him living so
far away, but his father could see that it was a golden opportunity and one that should be taken. He advised Jay to take
up the offer and go as soon as he could finalize arrangements. So it was that a few months later Jay and Prem sadly
left Durban for the long drive down to Cape Town. All their worldly belongings were shipped and arrived safely in Cape
Town some weeks later.

     That July day that they arrived in the 'mother city' of South Africa was a typically wet, cold and windy day in the
middle of winter. Certainly not an auspicious beginning; but Jay's friend Ishmail was very friendly and made them both
very welcome. It didn't take them long to adjust to the climate (which was quite a change to Durban's all-year round
superb climate), as well as the lifestyle. In a few weeks they had found a very comfortable house to buy in the rather
exclusive suburb of Rylands Estate, a far cry from their tiny house in Chatsworth.

     The brick house was close to the doctors' rooms. The new practice was booming and held in very high regard by the
locals, so Jay and Prem Naidoo could afford to live in a good area in a spacious house, bond free at that.

     Life was pretty good...it couldn't have been better really...


     Life had never been easy for the Nzimande family. They were Xhosas originally from the area which is now known as
the Transkei. This is the area along South Africa's east coast north of the Great Kei River as well as the seaport of
East London. It has been a "black homeland" on the southern border of Natal for some years. "Bantustan homelands"
were the brainchild of that arch-visionary of Apartheid, Dr. Hendrik Verwoerd, whereby the African people of South Africa
could govern themselves in their own desolate tribal areas. Millions of black African people were consequently
"dumped" in these areas, many not having been born anywhere near them.

     The Nzimande family were not some of them, though. They lived in a 'kraal' in the village of Qumbu, where old Mr.
Nzimande and his grandparents had been born. They were a poor rural family and the women had to walk miles and
miles each day to fetch water from the stream which was often dry. Their round thatched hut was made of mud with a
traditional cow dung floor.

     It was a tribal existence. Father Thembi herded cows and goats, but there was not much money to feed the family.
Never mind, the little community all helped each other through a barter system and they grew their own vegetables,
although the land was very dry.

     Jabulani was the first born in the large family of eight children. As the eldest, he had always been the protector to
his four younger brothers and three sisters. As could be expected, Mrs. Nzimande had her hands full bringing up this
family, as well as doing all the household chores. Life was very hard here in the Transkei and every day was a struggle
for survival...

     With no work in the desolate and barren land of the Transkei, the family had moved to Cape Town about ten years
previously. They knew that the Cape Peninsula was home to the one and a half million or so Coloured people and that
the Government gave them preferential treatment above the Africans when seeking work. But Thembi Nzimande was a
simple, yet desperate man, only doing the best for his dear family.

     Before that the family had tried unsuccessfully to reach Cape Town a number of times. Just when they were nearly
there, policemen at a roadblock had turned them back. This happened on several occasions, as they were on the
outskirts of Cape Town in the big very crowded bus, along with so many other work seekers. And they had paid the
bus driver so many rands too, they could have cried. But what was a man to do? A man could not give up; he had find
any work to provide for his wife and children. Thembi Nzimande was a proud Xhosa who wanted to work, and it hurt him
greatly to see his family close to starvation in the barren Transkei.

     So he tried again on his own and this time he stayed. When he arrived, Thembi had just two rand in his pocket after
paying the bus fare from East London. It was a long long trip and Thembi Nzimande was a very tired man when he
arrived on the outskirts of Cape Town that May day of 1983.

     Life was very hard at first, living under cover of some plastic sheeting and some cardboard that he had found on the
bare ground. With no money, life was even harder out there in the "bundu". Thembi camped out near the airport on the
side of the freeway, the N2 national road out of Cape Town. It was very noisy as car after car whizzed past right through
the night. So when he woke in the morning he was always tired, not having had a good night's rest. It could not have
been at all comfortable sleeping on that wooden board on the hard ground.

     It was also cold and very wet in winter compared to the Transkei. The end of June in 1983 was particularly bad. It
rained for days on end and it was bitterly cold; the area was a swamp with sandy mud everywhere one looked. To make
matters worse on a few occasions, City Council workers, watched over by the police, had demolished some of the
flimsy cardboard structures. However, as they had done at other times, the hardy squatters merely gathered up the
wood, iron, plastic and cardboard and rebuilt their flimsy shelters after the authorities had left. Once he heard, the
police together with a a bulldozer had come and totally destroyed the "illegal" settlement... leaving no materials to
rebuild their structures. "Hai, the people were so so angry!"

     However, Thembi was fortunate to be left alone by the authorities. He was a proud and determined man and walked
the streets of Pinelands looking for work as a garden "boy". It was not all that far away from Guguletu. Pinelands was a
white middle class garden suburb. Thembi Nzimande was a willing worker and soon he had a number of jobs.

     Life was hard though, without his family; but at least he was earning money and he sent most of it to his beloved
wife Thoko back in the Transkei - regularly, every two weeks after being paid.

     It was very uncomfortable, especially in the winter when the rain seeped through the plastic sheeting and he got a
bad cold. He had to stop work for a while and the ladies in Pinelands wondered what had happened to Thembi when he
did not turn up for a week. There were no telephones in the squatter camp and even if there were, he would not have
known how to use one. His English was getting better though, and he could make himself understood to his employers.

     Thembi missed his wife and children greatly. He was determined to bring his family to Cape Town, so that they
could all live happily together. The residents of Pinelands took great pride in their gardens and Thembi quickly got a
good reputation for his work. He derived great satisfaction from gardening: seeing them take shape and plants growing
 - so unlike the desolate Transkei. He worked long after knock-off time, as he took great pride in his work. Soon there
was too much work for him to do and he had to refuse some. The money was rolling in and Thembi sent more and
more to the family for whom he pined so much. They must be so proud of him, he thought happily.


     At this stage another fortunate thing happened in the life of Thembi Nzimande. The Government found it impossible
to implement the Influx Control laws. Thousands of African people were arriving in the big "white" cities of South Africa
to escape the impoverished homelands. With so many people streaming in desperate for work, any kind of menial
labor, the authorities were powerless to police these stringent laws...so they cast a blind eye to them.

     Word of this change of heart soon got out to Thembi and he immediately decided to go and fetch his family in the
Transkei. He traveled up to the kraal at Qumbu, which was really nothing more than a small collection of mud and
thatch rondavels situated on the crest of a bare, windswept hill. There were a few scraggy cattle wandering over the dry
land and hens pecking in the dusty red earth. The tiny settlement was miles from the nearest town of any size, but it
was still home to Thembi...and it dawned on him how much he had missed it.

     The family were all very pleased to see him after over a year's absence. Thoko and the children ran up to Thembi
excitedly and hugged him. They too had missed their father very much. The children were very excited about going to
Cape Town. Jabulani was fourteen at the time and the other children's ages ranged from eleven to eighteen months.
Jabulani was considered a man by his family and he took his responsibilities seriously. He had undergone the
traditional circumcision ceremony last winter and had therefore shed his boyhood in the bush. Having survived in the
cold with little more than a loin cloth and a spear and stick for several weeks, he was quite ready to face the
challenges of manhood. And also a new place in Cape Town.

     Back there, Thembi and his family soon found themselves some "better" accommodation: a corrugated iron shack
in Crossroads, the huge squatter settlement on the Cape Flats about twenty five kilometers from Cape Town. It was in
the area called Oliver Tambo Square. Thembi had a number of friends living there, who had started off at the side of the
freeway near the airport. So it was only natural to live near his friends. No doubt his wife Thoko would soon make
friends too, although life here in Cape Town was so different to the rural Transkei.

     One thing was the same though: there was no electricity in the squatter camp - unlike the rich white people had in
Pinelands. Here in Crossroads people huddled around open fires at night and there was a very good community spirit.
Thoko had a paraffin lamp on which she cooked the food. These lamps were very dangerous and caused many fires in
the area - some children were horrifically burnt.

     There was a lot of crime, especially at the week-ends. Every weekend there were numerous murders and stabbings,
whenever the people drank too much. But not Thembi, other than the occasional 'Kaffir beer' he had at the 'shebeen'- on
a Friday evening with his mates after a week's work. Then he would get back to Thoko and the family. Crime and
violence were rife in the townships. There were gangs everywhere and on payday a number of Thembi's friends had
been robbed. Never mind, at least there was work in Cape Town and the white "Madams" treated you well.

     There was also a lot of political violence, although Thembi was not at all concerned with politics. Most of the people
in his area supported the banned African National Congress represented by the UDF (the United Democratic Front).
They were sometimes attacked by the 'witdoeke', an older, conservative group of men who wore white scarves around
their heads and who were under the control of the unofficial 'mayor' of Crossroads, Mr. Bafana Nxobonga. There had
been a lot of fighting between the two groups recently and many shacks had been set ablaze. Many people, including
women and children, had died in the conflicts. Thembi did not get at all involved in this local 'politics', although the
suffering of homeless families in his area pained him greatly. He had heard that the police were supporting the
'witdoeke' and arming them with weapons. So he often thought back on their quiet life back in the Transkei and 
longed for that peace.

     Thembi was too busy working and normally too tired to go drinking often at the 'shebeen', a private beer hall, where
a lot of 'kaffir' beer was drunk - only once a week. Most of his friends spent a lot of time at the 'shebeen'. But Thembi
was a family man and there were always fights and stabbings after the men had been drinking. So it wasn't much fun,
and anyway it was a waste of time to get drunk.

     Thembi had so much work he used to take his son Jabulani with him on a few occasions. Jabulani soon learnt to be
a good gardener too and worked hard like his father. The family were settled nicely in Crossroads and the men were
bringing in a lot of money...at least compared to the Transkei.

     Life was a big struggle at first with most of the children now at school. Books and uniforms were expensive. Thembi
and Thoko were good, yet strict parents with their children. Well brought up with discipline, together with love ...as is
the African way. Thembi made sure that Jabulani only helped with the gardening jobs after school and on weekends.
Jabulani was a quiet and conscientious student who didn't have many friends. He attended the Matthew Goniwe High
School in Guguletu. Thembi didn't have to reprimand him often though, because Jabulani studied late at night by
candlelight in the little two-bed roomed shack (even when he had finished his homework). He was a considerate boy,
who didn't want to disturb the other children... but then he had always been like that.

     As Jabulani got older he did more and more work with his father. He enjoyed the gardening work, but most of all he
liked to help Thembi and the family ...and the rands in his pocket were also nice. He was so proud when he even
bought a radio for himself! He finished school at Guguletu and after that carried on with his gardening. He had a lot of
work on his own by now... but he did not want to be a garden boy all his life.

     Jabulani spoke to Thembi about becoming a taxi driver and Thembi, being a doting father, said he would help to buy
him a van. The black townships were far from the places where most people worked in the white suburbs of Cape Town.
The bus fares were so expensive for people who had little money, and the government was now letting taxi operators
run in competition to the buses. Jabulani felt awkward about leaving his loyal gardening clients; but he got a friend of
his, Joseph, to take over the jobs - and so he did not let down the good people of Pinelands.

     Everybody was getting into the taxi trade fast, so he had better be quick. Many white people owned the taxis with
the blacks driving for them. They were making a lot of money, all of them that is. He and his father and a few friends
raised some cash to buy a Toyota panel van. Not a bad price they paid for it. It was a bit battered, although it ran well.
There were a lot of arguments about the routes with the other new taxi drivers, but there seemed to be plenty of
business for everybody. Jabulani was a good driver and easily passed his test at Ottery, just up the road towards
Wynberg, the wine mountain.

     He worked long hours, traveling the route between Crossroads and Claremont railway station and also to Wynberg.
He was very friendly to his passengers, unlike some of the other taxi drivers who were so rude to them. Jabulani
squeezed them into the van like sardines, but he never overcharged them like so many taxi operators. Even the cops
knew he was different to the other drivers, who drove so recklessly and wanted to make easy money. The other taxi
drivers were always being stopped by the traffic police for speeding and they got a lot of tickets for dangerous driving.
But not once did Jabulani Nzimande.

     He always had a cheery wave for the passengers waiting at the stops, even if they traveled with the rival taxi
operators. Jabulani knew a lot of them and shortly some were traveling with him. His good nature won him many new
friends. So business was prospering and he was supporting the family nicely. His mother Thoko had given up her
"char" job of two days a week in Claremont for Mrs. Smith. The money had come in very useful, but it was very difficult
with so many mouths to feed, the young children to look after. Thankfully, Thoko's friends had looked after the children
while she worked those two mornings a week. Such good people!

     The violence was very bad in Crossroads. There were always fights and stabbings, especially on the weekends.
There was also a lot of political fighting. The unofficial mayor, Mr. Nxobonga, was a real conservative and he had the
support of the older residents. He controlled most of the area where the Nzimande's lived. He demanded high rents from
the people and kept on increasing them. There was a lot of intimidation, and if the residents did not pay, he threatened
them. Some people had been stabbed by his "henchmen" and a few houses had been burnt down. He seemed to have
the support of the police (the "boere" as they were known to the locals), who seemed to turn a blind eye to the
complaints about Mr. Nxobonga.

     Most of the local residents were terrified of the police, especially that Sergeant Swanepoel everyone was talking
about for the barbaric beatings he inflicted. There had been a number of police raids recently in the early hours of the
morning. Apparently the police were looking for guns and stolen property; but they never seemed to find any - at least
not in the Nzimande home. Thembi thought they just liked harassing the residents to show who was in charge.
Swanepoel loved seeing their looks of fear. Though the people didn't complain, because they were scared of being
sent back to the Transkei... and what could they do anyway?

     Most of the younger people were bitter enemies of Mr. Nxobonga. They supported the United Democratic Front
which had very much the same political aims as the banned African National Congress. They wanted a multiracial
democracy of "one man one vote" for the Republic of South Africa. The black youth of the country were altogether far
more militant than their parents. Many of the younger generation accused their parents of condoning Apartheid by
being so docile in accepting the hated system. This was why the African people had not yet gained their rights, they
said. So this had led to many bitter family arguments in the black townships of Cape Town...and throughout the vast
land of South Africa.


     During this period of strike action, many of the children stayed out of school for days on end. Jabulani's younger
brother Vuyo was one of the leaders in the class boycott. The children were protesting about the "inferior" black
education system offered by the Nationalist Government, as compared to the separate white system. Their slogan was
"liberation before education". As concerned parents, Thembi and Jabulani were very worried about their son, Vuyo.
Some friends had warned them about his activities and they knew the police were watching him closely. They had
heard what happened to children who meddle in such things.

     By now the family were doing well and they decided to buy a little brick house in Guguletu, about ten kilometers
away and closer to Cape Town. Jabulani arranged a loan and there was no problem, because both he and Thembi were
earning a good, steady income. They were so proud and very happy in their little home. The township of Guguletu was
far more peaceful than Crossroads. There were still murders in the unlit streets at night, but at least the house did not
leak like their corrugated iron shack. It had been terrible for Thoko that first winter with rain drops dripping onto her face,
while she slept on those hard boards. It never rained like this in the Transkei she had thought. And that terrible wind!

     So she was much happier in Guguletu. The neighbors were nice and the area was far better than Crossroads. The
people took pride in their meager homes and Thoko made a little garden in the front of the house. Her husband helped
her soon make the flowers bloom... even in the sandy soil. There were some 'spaza' (or grocery) shops around, but far
fewer than in Crossroads; also there weren't those car wrecks littering the ground outside - and the houses were
altogether far nicer.

     For Thoko it was another world to have electricity, and in time they might even have a telephone too. It would be
wonderful to talk to her friends on that strange thing. Jabulani's business continued to thrive as he sped around at a
great rate without being caught by the 'cops'. Every day his passengers looked forward to his friendly chatter on their
journey to work.

     There had been trouble for some time between the rival taxi operators. Some were owned by white men, but the
blacks were fighting each other over the routes and who could park at the ranks. A few drivers had been stabbed and
two had been killed just the other day. They were always arguing amongst themselves. Jabulani did not like to see 
that. Jabulani was a peaceful young man who had a lot of friends in the business. He didn't get involved in the bickering,
as he thought there were was plenty of room for everyone. "Everyone could have a slice of the cake - it was big
enough," he had said in his native Xhosa to his good friend Siyabulela. 

     So he carried on working and earning a good living. In his youthful innocence, little did Jabulani Nzimande know that
some of the other drivers were getting very jealous of him. Business was becoming harder and harder as more and
more people started driving taxis...and the ones who drove badly soon lost their passengers.

     One evening about 11 o'clock when Jabulani was driving home after a long day, he stopped at the traffic lights in
lower Lansdowne. A crowd of youths suddenly appeared from out of the darkness and hauled him out of the car. He
was set upon by the crowd, severely beaten and stabbed repeatedly with a screwdriver. His van was driven off and he
was left for dead at the side of the road.

     Jabulani Nzimande would surely have died, if it wasn't for the white lady who was returning home from the clinic in
Crossroads. She had seen a crowd gathered at the roadside, but was a bit afraid to stop. Yet something, an inner
voice, told her that help was desperately needed. The poor people who attended the SACLA clinic where she worked
greatly appreciated her efforts there. Someone in the crowd recognized her and told her what had happened. She
rendered emergency first aid to Jabulani, staunched the loss of blood from the multiple stab wounds all over his body
and reassured him that he would soon be in hospital. She then roared off in her car with Jabulani in the back seat to
Victoria Hospital in Wynberg. The blood poured from the horrific wounds and stained the back seat of her little
Volkswagen Golf - but Carol Clark did not mind. She was glad that God had chosen her to help someone in distress.
Carol admitted Jabulani giving details to the authorities, then hung around the hospital for hours. She only got home at
2 am...but then she had always been such a caring girl.

     Jabulani Nzimande lingered close to death for many days, but slowly he began to gain some strength. The kind
young woman who had saved him came to visit regularly and Carol Clark met Jabulani's very grateful family at the
hospital. They thanked her profusely for saving their beloved eldest son's life. It took him quite a while to recover, but
eventually he was released from Victoria Hospital on the leafy upper slopes of Wynberg hill.

     His mother and his younger sisters helped look after him while he recuperated at home. Nothing was too much
trouble for them, and he was getting stronger, day by day. After a few weeks he was up and about, just like his old 
self, but with a bit less energy.

     Meanwhile, his Toyota had been recovered by the police in Khayelitsha. It had been stripped and badly damaged;
so it took a lot of Jabulani's hard earned money to restore it, so that he could work once more. However, the "Boere"
(the police) had less luck in catching the culprit.

     It was a few months before Jabulani returned to work - working only a few hours at first, as he slowly regained his
Jabulani was not at all scared that something would happen to him again; he'd had his moment of violence
perpetrated against him. Jabulani was a deeply religious man who went to Church in Guguletu every Sunday. He
believed implicitly that God would look after him if he did what was right and he was a good person - throughout his life.
And his bad luck had already occurred...just once. Jabulani Nzimande trusted in the Lord God Almighty to protect him
and the rest of the family...with all his heart...and even all his soul. He prayed often to the Lord for his dear younger
brother, Vuyo. He was very different to the serious Jabulani, and would no doubt undergo many hardships in life. He
would always need the Lord's protection and blessing...but Jabulani knew he was in the Lord's good hands...so he 
was happy.

* * *

     In the meantime, Jabulani's younger brother Vuyo had been arrested a few times at school for his part in organizing
school boycotts. He was a born leader and the school children followed him blindly. Jabulani and his father could not
understand how Vuyo had become so interested in politics, because none of them were. Not in the slightest. Jabulani
had the Church and the Lord who gave him purpose. However Vuyo was nowhere near as radical as he was made out
to be: he did put on a bit of a show, but then his family did not know that!

     In spite of the frequent disruptions to his studies because of boycotts and a few days spent in prison (his friends
said that the 'boere' had tortured him, but he didn't tell this to his concerned parents), Vuyo still matriculated. He only
just scraped through, mind you, but Thembi and Thoko were very pleased and relieved. The education of their dear
children was something that was very important to them - it was a privilege they themselves had not had.

     After school Vuyo was very fortunate to get a clerical job with IDASA (The Institute for a Democratic Alternative for
South Africa). It was an privately funded organization designed to help promote democracy in South Africa by building
bridges between the 'status quo' and the many disparate 'forces of liberation'. Vuyo had heard about the job through a
friend and he was determined to work hard there. IDASA had been founded by the former leader of the Opposition, Dr.
Frederik Van Zyl Slabbert, a liberal and intelligent Afrikaner. He had resigned from the all-white Parliament saying it
was "irrelevant" in such a diverse land.

     Vuyo had been politically aware from a young age and he knew something, quite a bit actually, about "white
parliamentary politics". The 'kids' at Guguletu Primary were into shouting slogans and teasing the police, the 'Boere',
as they drove past the school in their huge yellow-green Casspir armored cars. He had been arrested once for holding
up a 'Free Mandela' placard on the school grounds in view of the passing traffic. (Nelson Mandela was a symbol of
black resistance and oppression against the white government and he had been in prison for over twenty years
already). Luckily Vuyo had been released after a day or two - without harm.

     Vuyo had been a member of the United Democratic Front youth for some time, but he was not all that active. He
liked the attention of being a leader (or at least of being seen to be a leader) at school.

     As he grew older, or perhaps it was from working at IDASA, his political views gradually became more moderate
from the young "fire-breathing communist" that he once was (or at least
the image he portrayed). From being the
militant schoolboy who believed in the violent overthrow of the ruling regime, he now believed the black "school kids"
should first get their education. Liberation would follow in time, and they would then be in a position to use it to the full
benefit of all their people. For without education, they had no hope in life.

     Vuyo Nzimande believed passionately in a non-racial, democratic South Africa, where there was a place for all
South Africans with equal rights. In spite of his very militant stance at school, he was far more moderate than others
of his age. He did see the Whites of South Africa as privileged oppressors of the majority, but he believed their ideas
about race and their place in South Africa stemmed largely from ignorance and apathy, rather than an innate superiority
complex or inbred racist attitudes. Vuyo believed that they too had a part to play under the African sun: blacks and
whites had to learn to live together with respect, tolerance and understanding.

     However, the whites, he believed, had had life very easy...but then wouldn't anybody else in their position like the
comfort of the 'status quo' with the black man serving him? He felt good using fancy words like that in his head. That
was the foundation of Vuyo Nzimande's changed political views.

     So Vuyo was determined to play his little part in this education process. His life's work was to attempt to bring
about reconciliation by showing the whites of South Africa that all the races could live peacefully and prosperously
together. He had his mission in life.

     It would be an immense task, after more than 300 years of racial division and especially in recent years, with the
extreme apartheid policies of Dr. Verwoerd, the dour Hollander who had introduced the ultimate laws based upon the
racial domination of one group over another. The legislation entrenched since enactment in 1948 had made matters far
worse - by deepening the divisions and wounds of South African society. But still Vuyo had great hope for his country
in the days ahead.

     From his readings and information from the UDF (some of it was banned and originated from the ANC in exile),
Vuyo learned that these laws were designed to keep the white man in a position of strength and the black man in a
state of perpetual servitude... although things seemed to be starting to change in recent years. With the forces of
liberation so active, making the townships "ungovernable", it couldn't carry on much longer as before - it was just a
matter of time, before the country became a non-racial democracy. He was determined to do something for his people.
His parents were from the country and were too accepting, he thought. Jabulani was far too serious, too busy being
good and working too hard, he thought. Too "fanatically churchy" to bother about politics. The other children were too
ignorant or simply too young to know anything.

     Vuyo gathered a lot of information while working at IDASA. He learnt about the origins of the violence in Crossroads,
where his family had lived. There were a lot of factions wanting political control of the area and they were fanning the
flames of violence for their own ends. The Nationalist Government, "the ruling regime" (as he used to call it), was also
exploiting the situation, he felt, by dividing the black people and oppressing them for their own ends.

     Vuyo was becoming more and more of a pacifist. He worked with a nice white lady, Miss Sakinofsky from Sea
Point, who had once invited him to dinner with her friend Cheryl in the apartment that they shared. Vuyo hadn't been to
Sea Point before. It had been another world there with the high rise blocks of flats, as well as take-away food bars and
restaurants everywhere. Must be so expensive, he thought.

     This was the first time Vuyo had met any white people other than at work. He had a good evening there and the
people were fun, although he was a bit shy at first. It was another world to him and he could not stop talking about it to
his parents and the rest of the family. "The rich whites in Sea Point", he kept on repeating. They were very envious and
inquisitive about the white people. His old friends asked endless questions about what they did, ate and said. They
thought white people smelt a bit different and were rather funny - they had such strange ways about them. And Vuyo
said that he would take them to Sea Point that Sunday.

Order the rest of the book, either the soft cover book or the electronic book version, with a Click Here. Special Bonus
with softcover book orders! You'll get the rest of the story including the following chapters -

      Chapter 5: Township "Tours"
      Chapter 6: Gawie and Hettie in another world
      Chapter 7: Carol
      Chapter 8: Gawie's Dream
     Chapter 11: On the Road to "Democracy" with the AWB
     Chapter 17: Willem: The Morning after
     Chapter 21: The American Presidential Party
     Chapter 25: The New Rainbow

Order Your Copy Today!  Click Here!

     This story is pure fiction. In this manuscript I have made up many names. Any resemblance to characters,
living or dead, real or imagined, is purely coincidental. Some parts of this story are based on actual events in South Africa's
turbulent history  and others not. I have used the names of some politicians from actual history.
Copyright 1999    Craig Lock   All Rights Reserved    back to the top

Craig Lock is at Yahoo!

Craig Lock Books
Free Reports | Adventure | Business | Life Assurance | Money Management | Book Reviews
Master Your Mortgage | Master Money | Creative Writing Course | Ladies Finance
10 Steps to Financial Success | 101 Survival Ideas | Contact Craig Lock!

Gisborne | The New Rainbow | South Africa | Favorite Quotes | Photo Gallery
Sport Psycho | Course Cirriculum | First Lesson FREE | My Passion for Sport

EZ Web Center Internet Service
Site Design/Hosting/Marketing

Copyright 1999-2003   All Rights Reserved
Craig Lock  EZ Web Center