Connect with us

Current Affairs

Refugees: The Nowhere People

Published

on

The displaced and their search for identity and belonging; the migrant mother and the forgotten daughters who take the brunt of it all.


There are 65.3 million displaced people worldwide. Of those people, 21.3 million are refugees, the people who belong to – Nowhere. No one knows where they come from, no one knows where they’re going. Ban Ki-moon, secretary-general of the United Nations, has highlighted that: “We are facing the biggest refugee and displacement crisis of our time.” He has called it a crisis of solidarity.

The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR) Global Trends report shows that since 2003, the number of newly-displaced people per minute has increased from just fewer than 10 to 24 persons in 2015. In 2014, the number was at its highest – 30.

The reasons for displacement differ. Increasingly, the main reason is fleeing the source of political or economic conflict. It then becomes difficult to imagine the uncertain reality the many have run to or are left to live through. In theory, international law defines and protects refugees, encouraging the initiation of asylum procedures once they enter a new environment. In reality, the many who have migrated become nomads, often pursuing what becomes a hollow quest for a better life.

Women and girls form around 50% of refugees or displaced people around the world. In Africa, the number of women uprooted by war and unrest is significantly higher. A study published by Hivos International recorded 80% of refugees in Lebanon were women and children.

Along the inner streets of Johannesburg, are ‘foreigners’, women selling fruit, vegetables and sundry items to feed their hungry children and themselves. Whilst walking up to the Department of Social Development, two young female hawkers ran past me, clutching towels in one hand and tacky sunglasses and cellphone pouches on the other, feeling cops. As is the case with hundreds of immigrants, they have no papers.

Another, a lady, sits rubbing her pregnant belly beside a small stall on Eloff Street. She sells hats, wallets, purses and scarves. She is reluctant to talk and asks not to be named. She came to South Africa following her husband escaping the political turmoil in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).

“I came after he had made his way to what we were calling the land of milk and honey… [but] when I arrived in South Africa, it was made known to me that he had left for Canada. I’d come for nothing.”

Abandoned, she was forced to join the informal trading business.

“Life is hard here. We as foreigners are just not free. People don’t respect us and just steal our stock,” she says with little emotion.

After matriculation, she had gone on to acquire a degree in management in the DRC. But today, she is battered and broke.

Often, along their treacherous journey, the women are abused and mishandled by gangs, truck drivers and cops. This is only the beginning of their travails. The constitutional guarantees cannot protect them from the injustices they face. The UNHCR has highlighted that life for a woman beyond her country of origin, becomes a constant battle and one of constant fear and uncertainty.

One of the many dangers is the xenophobic attacks, as has happened in recent times, with South Africans accusing foreign nationals of taking their jobs and over-populating their areas.

The informal trading sector is the main space in which the hateful disputes unfold. But for foreign nationals who have no other hope, informal trading becomes the only option.

Vanya Gastrow, a PhD candidate currently doing research for the African Centre for Migration and Society (ACMS), says one of the biggest challenges faced by foreign traders who come to South Africa is the crime targeted at them.

Other challenges include lack of access to reliable documentation. Says Gastrow: “Asylum seekers and refugee permits often don’t meet documentation requirements for banks, visa offices, and landlords.” She says such foreigners cannot open bank accounts or access loans.

“These permits also require frequent renewals and so many make the decision to just live without them.”

For women though, it is even worse.

“It’s the sexual violence … and extortion, specific dangers that authorities fail to understand,” according to Penny Foley, a volunteer from Australia currently living in South Africa. She highlights that the objectification of female refugees is one of the many symptoms of what has become the de-humanizing process of forced migration. 

“The global community needs to change the 20th century understanding of a nation-state and move away from the notion of isolated nationalities”, she says.

“Interestingly though, the problem is not just about changing the perception of what nationals think of foreign nationals, relations amongst refugees need to be established. The fight becomes harder if unity lacks amongst them.”

Women and girls form around 50% of refugees or displaced people around the world.

In the pages that follow, FORBES WOMAN AFRICA speaks to three women from Zimbabwe; what displacement has done to them. 

Tafadzwa Shumbu

“I just stood at the border in my pink shirt and panties after I had crossed over. I had nothing and I was scared.”

*Tafadzwa Shumba is 42 and came to South Africa in 2008. She was forced to leave her country, Zimbabwe, because of the political instability that made life for her and her family unbearable.

“I was seen to be too neutral so they threatened my parents and tried to kill me for not engaging in their dirty politics.”

The choice to leave was not an easy one to make but as she recalls, “I literally had to take that leap of faith”.

On July 27, 2008, as the world slumped to a financial crisis, Shumba packed a portable bag. She had R300 ($21) that would pay the ‘Guma-Gumas’, a group of men said to assist escapees across the woods to the border.

“I had a passport but those days we were using visas and they were expensive so my only choice was to cross over illegally.” She was the only woman amongst seven guys.

The group began the three-day walk through the forests, the Limpopo River, eventually reaching the border.

Few survive the trek but Shumba’s determination carried her.

“I don’t forget, as we walked through the forest we saw dead bodies. There was a human head lying on the ground with dreadlocks like mine,” says Shumba, running her fingers through her own.

“The Guma-Gumas picked it up and pointed it at us and said if you don’t give us your money you will end up like this head.”

“They took everything, even my pants and left me with there in my pink shirt, panties and shoes.” There was no time to process the betrayal. The trek had to continue. 

“Look at me,” she says, as she gestures to her body. “I am nothing. I was a nurse, we would wear crisp white uniform and after work, I had a home to go to.”

Last year, she was involved in a road accident in South Africa that left her crippled.

“I could not even get compensation from the Road Accident Fund because I am a foreigner.”

Now, because of her disability, she cannot work so she takes care of children and sells fruits and vegetables when she is desperate for money. The future is uncertain but she takes “each day as it comes”.

There was a human head lying on the ground with dreadlocks like mine.”

Tapiwa Moyo

“Coming to South Africa was supposed to be like going to heaven,” says *Tapiwa Moyo who is 22 years old and from Zimbabwe. When her mother, her only caregiver, left her and her younger sister to find work in Johannesburg, she did not anticipate the hardship.

“At one stage we went without food for almost a week and we had to start selling my mother’s belongings to get some money to buy some maize meal.” 

Moyo’s mother saw South Africa as the place where she could try and build a better life for her children.

“The deal was that she would work for a few months, save the money and get us passports and visas to move to South Africa.”

The months passed and then they turned into years. When their supply of cash and food ran dry, Moyo, as the older sister, still in her early teens, was forced to work menial jobs washing clothes, selling nuts and chips and eventually having to part with all their worldly possessions to survive.

“I would see other children playing with teddy bears and Barbie dolls or walking in the streets with their mothers and I would just cry because that’s all I wanted to do,” she weeps.

She was 15 when she received word that her mother had finally made enough money to bring her and her sister to South Africa. They had waited seven years. 

“When I finally got my passport, it was like my prayers were finally answered.”

The bus ride was one filled with excitement.

“It was a 12-hour ride but I couldn’t even sleep. My life was about to change.”

She recalls the moment she arrived.

“Everything I thought was a lie, South Africa was supposed to be my heaven but it was not.”  

She wipes her tears with anger, not allowing herself to be weak.

“I’ve cried about it all for so long you know and nobody cares … the tears don’t mean anything.

My name meant nothing to the border police and some of the citizens. I was just another ‘kwere-kwere’.”

Since then, that’s all she’s known apart from poverty. Just as she did in Zimbabwe, Moyo finds and sells what she can to ensure she and her daughter do not go to bed hungry each day.

“I left one hell for another. Would I like to be back home with my family? Sure, but that’s no longer an option for me. I’m here now.” 

At some point, I fell to the ground and started to scream ‘I am tired’.”

Emily Shamu

*Emily Shamu came to South Africa when her daughter, Lisa, was a toddler.

“She was too heavy for me to carry along with our luggage and a gentleman offered to carry her when we crossed the Limpopo River,” she says.

She would normally not have trusted a stranger, but for Shamu, the focus was survival. 

Shamu and the others walked 12 hours to Messina, the northernmost town in South Africa’s Limpopo province.

“I did not know we were going to walk for so long. At some point, I fell to the ground and started to scream ‘I am tired’.”

She describes her knees colliding with the gravel road. Her daughter watched as she cried uncontrollably. “My child remembers. We rested for some time and I used this time to remind myself (sic) why I was going through this.”

Now, living in South Africa for eight years as a refugee, her life is defined by a cycle of begging – not for food or spare change – but, each quarter of the school year, to plead with the headmaster to allow her daughter to sit her exams with her peers.

“Every term, my heart sinks… I don’t know if he will say yes. We are just controlled by circumstances.”

In South Africa, students are required to produce a form of identification before they are allowed to partake in written assessments. Because Shamu has no asylum papers, she is unable to apply for an ID document for her daughter.

“If I’m honest, I have not tried to get my papers,” she says. “I tried in 2010 and the back and forth is just so demoralizing. “ Shamu and her daughter live stateless with nothing to ensure stability.

“I want to go home, if the situation can just change…” 

Interestingly though, the problem is not just about changing the perception of what nationals think of foreign nationals, relations amongst refugees need to be established. The fight becomes harder if unity lacks amongst them.”

Refugees Seen As ‘The Other’

The story of a Vietnamese immigrant

Lisa Phung, her mother and older sister hid in a mosquito and disease-infested swamp during the day and in the night were led onto a small boat that took them to a main fishing boat which would eventually transport them to their new lives.

Earlier, Phung’s mother had received instruction from her father to leave Vietnam as their freedom was under threat. He was a pilot who had just been captured by communist soldiers in the Vietnam War. Her mother who was not educated enough for a stable job heeded her husband’s call and managed to secure the money to get her and her girls out of war-torn South Vietnam.

“People smugglers” were paid to get them out.

“The first two times, we got caught and jailed,” says Phung. The third time they got lucky.

“Enroute to the fishing boat, we got robbed by the people smugglers and everything was taken except for a few pieces of food.”

But at least they got onto the big boat.

“We were crammed up like anything and I was one of the youngest at age four.”

Shortly after they started, the boat’s engine died.

“They thought it was a petrol problem but the people smugglers had taken the petrol and replaced the tank with water.”

The group of people floated for 10 days with nothing more than the packet of rice.

“My mother remembers that I was starting to die … everyone was getting ready for death.” 

Shortly before a storm, a British cargo ship sailed past and for a few moments there was hope of survival.

“It didn’t stop to save us and that was heart-breaking because we lost hope.”

It was as though their fate was sealed but then, in a surprise move, the ship turned around and carried the refugees, Phung and her family amongst them, to Singapore.

“After the ordeal, my mum told me she lost hope in a lot of human beings because everyone just looked out for themselves.”

Because Phung’s mother had children, she was the last to be rescued.

“She was the last person off that boat; it must have been horrifying for her.”

The ship docked in Singapore. From there, the refugees were taken to a detention center in Hong Kong where they stayed for three years.

“My mum wanted to go to the USA but they were no longer taking refugees.”

Sometime later, Australia was accepting refugees. Phung was seven years old and finally a life of some stability awaited her.

Years have passed. She now lives in Australia with a family of her own and uses her experience to give hope to others who have walked her path.

“I’ve seen how refugees are seen as ‘the other’ in different parts of the world, coming to take their jobs or their land and they really just want a safe place to live and everyone should have that right.”

Misplaced In Their Own Space

How a community in Western Algeria live like refugees, in their own land.

isolated from the world and within their own state, this has been the plight of the Saharawi people living in refugee camps in Western Algeria for the last 41 years. They face human rights injustice, but unlike other global refugees, it is on their own land.

The Polisario movement, the voice of the Saharawi ethnic group, says the territory reported to be illegally occupied by Morocco belongs to the Saharawi people.

For years following a guerrilla war, they have tried and failed to claim ownership of the land from the Moroccan government with no success. Now, according to the United Nations, they live in mud brick houses and tents in the harsh desert conditions of Tindouf Province, Western Algeria.

They have been locked in an armed struggle for liberation. At the forefront of the movement are the Saharawi women who have increased their traditional role in the fight not only to reclaim their territory but to also salvage their self-determination as a people.

According to Catherine Constantinides, a human rights activist and executive director of Miss Earth South Africa, the power structure is unlike any other on the globe, particularly in Muslim culture. “Women have a strong hold in the camps; they double as caregivers as well as liberation fighters. They also invest heavily in themselves educating one another and learning various skills. They exert the power there and the men respect this because they hold the camps together.”

Constantinides who has dedicated her efforts to bringing to the fore their plight emphasizes the world cannot fathom the dire conditions faced by the Saharawi people “until you see it”.

“The Saharawi people have less than nothing,” she says. On one her many visits to the region, Constantinides witnessed the dehumanizing process of the people getting food dropped from the skies as by aeroplanes and water delivered in huge trucks. The men cannot provide for their families and their children just watch each time as they reach out to the skies to catch what they can.

This is just one illustration of the wide socio-economic gap and the gap between humanity and policy regulations that leave the Saharawi people living in a constant state of statelessness and discomfort.

Moreover, there are no adequate health facilities for them.

“Child mortality is at its highest in Tindouf as women are forced to give birth in their mud houses or tents,” explains Constantinides.

“It’s devastating because children bring that spark of hope within that unfortunate situation.”

United Nations Secretary-General, Ban Ki-moon, has since visited the refugee camps as an effort to reinitiate negotiations in the region to end the dispute and to bring liberation to the Saharawi people. During his visit, he said he “would spare no effort towards a just and meaningful solution” for the people in Western Algeria.

These are the kind of efforts activists like Constantinides want to see in the fight against the global neglect of refugees. “We have to find better ways of dealing with the crisis.”

One example which Constantinides makes reference to is the naturalization process that she witnessed earlier this year in Virginia, America, on the 4th of July.

“This was an example of how in time systems can work if applied to crises to give people dignity.”

“We have to bring the concept back of supporting each other instead of building walls,” she sighs.

Until such time, the Saharawi people will continue the taxing fight for their statehood, led by the women who Constantinides says will never give up

Heroes & Survivors

The Test, Trial And Triumph

Published

on

Motlabana Monnakgotla on an assignment for FORBES AFRICA

After 14 days in isolation as a Covid-19 patient, this FORBES AFRICA photojournalist recovered to see the world with new eyes and realize he had the gift of life.

It was around 3PM on June 24 when a nurse called to tell me that I could now officially end my 14-day self-isolation period at home. I had tested Covid-19 positive three weeks before and now was in total disbelief that I had survived this particular physical trial and mental ordeal.

Before testing positive, I was like any other ordinary South African, pursuing my work from home, and as a FORBES AFRICA photojournalist, recording the impact of the coronavirus.

I had thought my face-mask and hand-sanitizer were my armour against the virus, but I guess one can never be too careful.

The first 72 hours of knowing that I had confirmed positive for Covid-19 came with its own set of emotions and experiences. Some friends, and even family, criticized and judged me for carrying the virus, but I also came to know about the ones who cared.

A group of doctors visited me at home to check if I needed hospitalization. They were young and not cloaked head-to-toe in PPE as I had thought. One of them was wearing a camouflage top and sported a few tattoos on his left arm. After his consultation with me, he spoke excitedly about the baby he and his wife were expecting, due later in the year.

There was hope in the world.

I was confident my health was getting better until a nurse called me a few days later. She was the pin that burst my bubble, as she stated things I didn’t want to hear at the time. They were facts, she clinically warned, as she sees people dying daily of the virus.

My mind raced to the previous two nights, when I experienced mild short breaths and thought how the attack could have been worse. I could have died at night all by myself, just trying to breathe. I shed tears as she spoke.

Soon after that, an old friend of mine, who had been shot (and injured) in the spine during an armed robbery attack, called. His timing was perfect. He encouraged me to live on and smile, and told me that the nurse was only doing her job, in advising me to keep to a healthy diet during this time. He brought a smile to my face.

A week later, it was my mother’s birthday. Every year, I visit her with a gift and a cake. This time, all I could do was video-call her; she was both happy and sad not to be able to see me. Two days later, it was my own birthday. I felt low and lonely, but was glad to be alive as my two weeks in self-quarantine was going to be over soon.

“I asked if I would be added on as a statistic to the official recovery numbers, and she laughed.”

I was reluctant to leave the house, but on June 24, the call by a lady who identified herself as “Nurse Nomsa from the Department of Health” liberated me. She was following up on my health status for the previous two weeks and I had ticked all the right boxes. I asked if I would be added on as a statistic to the official recovery numbers, and she laughed. She told me I had recovered, but should continue maintaining a healthy lifestyle.

Today, I can stand outside my home in Soweto and watch the neighbors’ kids play, shout and scream, asking from their yards, “Malume (uncle), are you okay?”

With a gentle laugh and nod, I acknowledge my story of survival to them.

Continue Reading

Current Affairs

Sustainable Development In Africa Can Be Amplified By The Media

The COVID-19 pandemic has struck the world like a bolt of lightning exposing the contours of deep inequalities. Media reports have helped reveal the interwoven threads of inequality and health, with poorer people suffering a strikingly disproportionate share of the fallout from the virus, either through infection or loss of livelihoods.

Published

on

In 2018, the United Nations Secretary-General Mr António Guterres, launched an SDG Media Compact to leverage their resources to advance the Sustainable Development Goals. By disseminating facts, human stories and solutions, the Compact is a powerful driver for advocacy, action and accountability on the Sustainable Development Goals. Photo- UN

When 17-year-old high school student Darnella Fraizer filmed the last minutes of George Floyd’s life under the knee of police officer Derek Chauvin, she could not have imagined that her footage would reignite the explosive global question of racial inequality and the subsequent clamour for reforms in policing.

This act of filming validates the force of the media globally, we need a similar drive for urgent action in Africa. We need the continent’s media to help ensure the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) are achieved and the life of every African afforded the opportunity they deserve.

“Around the world, success in achieving the SDGs will ease global anxieties, provide a better life for women and men and build a firm foundation for stability and peace in all societies, everywhere,” said the UN Deputy Secretary General, Amina Mohammed

Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, a wave of demonstrations from Lebanon to Chile, from Iran to Liberia, was sweeping across countries. This was a clear sign that, for all our progress, something in our globalized society is broken.

The COVID-19 pandemic has struck the world like a bolt of lightning exposing the contours of deep inequalities. Media reports have helped reveal the interwoven threads of inequality and health, with poorer people suffering a strikingly disproportionate share of the fallout from the virus, either through infection or loss of livelihoods.

The global sweep of protests due to years of disenfranchisement and racism has made it clear that the world must change to offer equal treatment to all people.  

Media can do the same for the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Achieving the SDGs, and so improving the lives of millions of Africans, depends heavily on increasing public awareness, and on the focused action and funding that such awareness ignites.

One major shortcoming of development progress is the lack of widespread knowledge about the SDGs and the 2030 Agenda. We must look to the media to push the SDG discourse; what is reported and how it is reported helps shape policy and has implications for the millions of people whose lives are affected. Knowledge is power and if citizens are aware of the issues, they are empowered to help determine the national response.

Traditionally, development experts have failed to explain the relatively new concept of sustainable development to influencers such as educators, politicians, and the media. Doing so is key, so that easily understood narratives are developed to raise public support.

We are already a third of the way towards the 2030 Agenda deadline which 193 UN member states committed to. But at the current pace of change – notwithstanding the global pandemic – Africa is likely to miss out on the time-bound targets in key sectors – including health, education, employment, energy, infrastructure, and the environment. 

Improved public awareness of the SDGs themselves, and of the actions needed and the bodies responsible for such actions is essential. By stepping up to address and explain the global quest for social justice and equality which the SDGs represent, the media can help galvanise civil society, business, international bodies, regional organizations, and individuals.

Pressure from an informed public, pushes policymakers into action, offering hope to millions of poor people.

Development is never far from the media agenda in Africa, so the opportunity to build understanding of sustainability is there. Sustainable development experts must explain why the SDGs are important, and why ‘business as usual’ in development is no longer viable in the face of increasing populations and climate change. Then, news outlets, who would then be able to develop compelling narratives to make the concept understandable by all can help raise the SDG profile, thereby raising public support.

We must “flip the orthodoxy”.

What is reported, how it is reported, and on what channels helps in shaping policy and has implications for the millions of people whose lives are affected.

To this end, the media must be brought into the conversation and be made to understand the role they can play towards the greater good.

The SDGs pledge that “no one will be left behind” and to “endeavour to reach the furthest behind first.” In practice, this means taking explicit action to end extreme poverty, curb inequalities, confront discrimination and fast-track progress for the furthest behind.

The media can shine a spotlight on those left behind, for example by using COVID-19 to examine the wider issue of universal health coverage, the subject of SDG 3.

It also plays a critical role in holding governments to account for their Agenda 2030 commitments. Though these commitments demand that countries have clear reporting and accountability mechanisms, most nations still have no reliable data on their progress towards specific goals. This matters because countries can only unlock financing for the SDGs by disaggregating data to understand where resources are required. In Africa, where national commitments are rarely backed by adequate investment, this is particularly important.

Rapid mobile penetration in Africa offers unparalleled opportunities for content sharing on digital platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube. Though lack of affordable internet connections and poor connectivity remain a challenge, mobile technology is a powerful enabler across many sectors.

One in every six people on Earth lives in Africa; its problems are the world’s problems and solving them is the world’s responsibility. If Africa fails to achieve Agenda 2030, the implications will be felt across the planet through conflict, migration, population growth and climate catastrophe.

The media in Africa is a stakeholder in the achievements of the SDGs. Let us support the media and enlist their help in the quest for economic, environmental, and social justice across the world.

Siddharth Chatterjee is the United Nations Resident Coordinator to Kenya. He has served in various parts of the world with UNFPA, UNICEF, UNDP, UNOPS, UN Peacekeeping and the Red Cross Movement. A decorated Special Forces veteran, he is an alumnus of Princeton University. Follow him on twitter-@sidchat1

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.​​​​​

Continue Reading

Current Affairs

From The Singing To The Shooting: ‘Will Never Forget For As Long As I live’

Published

on

Oupa Moloto poses in one of the classrooms at Morris Isaacson High School where the protests started; image by Motlabana Monnakgotla

Forty-four years ago on this day, bullets tore through a peaceful school protest in South Africa ending in bloody riots and an uprising that got the world’s attention. Two of the students from the time shudder as they reflect on that cold, dark morning in June.

Forty-four years ago on this day, ‘Soweto Uprising’, South Africa’s famed student protest, led to bullets, fire and tears and an iconic photograph the world came to associate with the country’s brutal apartheid regime.

On June 16, 1976, a day etched in blood in South African history, 13-year-old school student, Hector Pieterson, was shot dead in the police firing that ensued, a moment captured for posterity by photographer Sam Nzima.

Even today, there are those who distinctly remember the coldness of that dark day, when all that the students protested was being taught in Afrikaans, a language they felt was oppressive.

Oupa Moloto, now 63, who was then a student at the Morris Isaacson High School in Soweto where it all started and who was thrown into prison after that horrific day, recalls it vividly. He thought it was going to be a peaceful protest, but it turned out to be a day filled with bullets, police dogs, burning tyres and angry students.  

Moloto had first spoken to FORBES AFRICA in 2016 when he had shared all the details. The memories of that day will never fade away.

“Finding ourselves singing in the streets as young people, challenging the government of the day, it was just excitement. The sadness that is going to remain with us and going to be indelible in our lives is when the police started shooting at young people, that is the one incident that one will never forget for as long as I live,” he tells FORBES AFRICA.

The protests started in Soweto and quickly moved to other townships in South Africa such as Alexandra and Tembisa. Towards the end of the week, the whole country was standing up against the government and everybody got involved; even adults and children in Bulwer, a small town in the KwaZulu-Natal region where Duduzile Dlamini-Ndubane was a student at Pholela High School.

Duduzile Dlamini-Ndubane in KwaZulu-Natal

She says they were told not to go to class by a group of male students on that Wednesday morning, and she was not too sure how they had received the information on the nationwide protest against teaching in the Afrikaans language.

“We made our way to the school grounds, we started singing, some students didn’t even know what was happening but nonetheless stayed with the group. We were then chased out of the school grounds and told to go back home. It was a noisy protest but no police came and there were no injuries,” remembers Dlamini-Ndubane.

Today, she is a professional nurse based in the Mpumalanga province of South Africa and Youth Day to her is a constant reminder that unity is key.

“When we unite behind a great cause, we change not only the current situation, but we make history. Youth need to unite and fight the right causes to change the world for the greater good,” she says.

Back in Soweto, Moloto says the struggle of today is an economic one for young people.

“Students are looking for economic freedom, hence #FeesMustFall; they want to get into the institute of learning without being in debt because they believe education can help them to be part of the economy of the country,” he says.

“When Hector died in 1976, he belonged to no party, he was just a student who died for all political affiliations of the time.”

However, going back to the Soweto Uprising, Moloto disagrees on how the commemoration of it has changed from then to now.

“In 1977, when we were commemorating, it was more of a unity, all political parties would gather at Regina Mundi to celebrate, today, the fight is no longer in a unified fashion. The municipalities and organizations have their own way of commemorating like AZAPO visits the Tsietsi Mashinini grave and the City of Johannesburg visits the Hector Pieterson Museum. That lack of unity is what concerns me. As long as we are not united when we commemorate, this day does not have an impact,” he says.

“When Hector died in 1976, he belonged to no party, he was just a student who died for all political affiliations of the time; we need to unify.”

After that eventful day, the liberation movements benefited because thousands of students joined political parties inside and outside of the country. June 16 was a catalyst in South Africa’s struggle for democracy, and scripted by the students in the nation’s history books.

Continue Reading

Trending