Our first
stop was the parking area on top of Bryanston Mall. On our way there it became
apparent that traffic in Joburg moves considerably faster than in Cape Town,
and Guy drives assertively. This is a style somewhere between defensive and
aggressive, but definitely closer to the latter than the former. The Mall is
situated on a ridge, and there is a fine view from the parking area. We stood
at the concrete parapet and surveyed the city laid out before us. Now we could
see why it is known as the biggest man-made forest in Africa, with most of the
houses, chops and roads obscured by a
myriad trees. To the south, the high-rise buildings of Sandton stood tall above
the surrounding greenery. It was around 11am on a mild, cloudless day without
wind, and even the thin mantle of smog looked more decorative than toxic.
Next on the
itinerary was Bryanston Crescent, where he had lived for five years before
moving to Linden. Much different to what I had imagined, the place was set in
large, park-like grounds surrounded by fortress fencing, of course. Blocks of
flats, their design adventurously unconventional. Six three storey circular
structures spaced comfortably apart, they probably dated back to the 60’s or
70’s, and looked solid and well maintained. Guy showed us the three-bedroom
apartment he had rented, and it appeared far more salubrious than the den I had
conjured in my mind in response to all the tales he had told us about the
motley succession of dubious characters he had shared it with.
It was not
far to Bantry Road, where he had lived for his first two years in Joburg.
Again, it did not conform to the picture I had constructed, which was of a
street in a flat area like Constantia. In fact, he had to exercise
assertiveness in applying the hand brake when we stopped outside Number 29, or
we would have rolled back downhill and crached into something.
This was
the house of iniquity? We were looking at a gate that was designed to withstand
any attack the barbarian hordes might launch in order to overrun the inhabitants
of the fortified complex. Beyond the gate lay two rows of six duplex apartments
facing one another across a paved driveway. Clearly, only respectable middle-class
citizens could afford to live here.
“They demolished
the old house, chopped down all the trees, and bulldozed everything, including
the swimming pool and tennis court. Then they built what you see here. It’s
happening all over the northern suburbs, this obliteration of the past. Only
the address remains.”
He sounded
wistful. Not a single detail had been left to trigger memories. For that, he
would have to look for photos on his phone, or search his mental archive.
“So this is
where Eric gave tango classes, and the Nigerian slaughtered a goat and cooked
it on the kitchen stove for a week, and you threw fire crackers into the half
empty pool to stop the cacophonous bullfrogs from destroying your sleep, and
you shot at the rats with your air gun, and the sex addict paid the maid to
give him a hand job between her sweeping and ironing, and your phone was stolen
by that sociopath, and, and, and?”
I think he
was chuffed that I had remembered these events that he had shared with us
From there
we drove to Rivonia along River Road and stopped to look down into the valley
that carried the Braamfontein Spruit, the longest stream in Joburg that empties
into the Jukskei River to the south. The grassy slopes on either side of the
tree-lined spruit had been mowed, and higher up overlooking the bucolic scene
were the palaces of the wealthy class. On our side, above the road, was a
similar line of prime properties, all of which were fronted by three-metre-high
walls topped with electric fencing. It was unlikely that any of the tycoons,
business magnates and captains of industry living in these mansions would be
tempted to flog their residence to a property developer. But, as Guy told us,
fashions and values change all the time in this city.
We reached
Rivonia and stopped in a leafy street outside a light brown facebrick building
that was low-rise and did not have the appearance of a city office block.
Another surprise. This was where he had worked from 2011 until Covid and, like
everywhere else we had been so far, the real Joburg was proving to be far more
interesting than the monotonously unprepossessing environment I had constructed
in my mind’s eye.
Now for
Liliesleaf. It was not far, and the approach felt like we were in the
countryside, and this could well have been a farm. The parking area was empty
but, as we got out, a security man approached and said the resource centre was
closed on a Monday, but we were welcome to walk around.
The
farmstead was built on a slope, and the farmhouse and outbuildings look out to
where fields and pastures once lay. As we wandered from one building to
another, Krystyna read the information boards to me, and they proved most
educational. To summarise what they had to say, I asked ChatGPT to discuss the
history of Liliesleaf Farm and the events surrounding Mandela’s arrest. This is
what it came up with:
Liliesleaf Farm, located in Rivonia,
Johannesburg, holds a significant place in South African history due to its
role in the anti-apartheid struggle. The farm was purchased in 1961 by Arthur
Goldreich, a member of the South African Communist Party, and served as the
secret headquarters of the African National Congress (ANC) and its armed wing,
Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK).
Historical
Background
- Acquisition and Initial Use:
- Liliesleaf Farm was acquired under the guise of a typical
residential property, intended to conceal the true activities taking
place. Arthur Goldreich and his family posed as the white owners of the
farm, which allowed black activists to operate discreetly.
- ANC and MK Activities:
- The farm became a central meeting place for the leadership of the
ANC and MK. Key figures such as Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Govan
Mbeki, and Joe Slovo used the location to plan and coordinate their
efforts against apartheid. Mandela himself lived on the farm under the
alias David Motsamayi, posing as a gardener and cook.
- Operation Mayibuye:
- One of the significant activities conducted at Liliesleaf was the
drafting of "Operation Mayibuye," a detailed plan to transition
from non-violent resistance to an armed struggle against the apartheid
regime. The document outlined strategies for guerrilla warfare and mass
mobilization.
Events
Leading to Mandela's Arrest
- Increased Surveillance:
- By the early 1960s, the South African government had intensified
its crackdown on anti-apartheid activities. The ANC and MK's activities
were under increased surveillance by the apartheid state's security
forces.
- Mandela's Capture:
- Prior to the raid on Liliesleaf, Nelson Mandela had already been
arrested on August 5, 1962, while traveling from KwaZulu-Natal to
Johannesburg. He was charged with inciting workers' strikes and leaving
the country illegally. His capture was a significant blow to the
anti-apartheid movement.
- The Raid on Liliesleaf Farm:
- On July 11, 1963, the South African police raided Liliesleaf Farm.
During the raid, several high-ranking members of the ANC and MK were
arrested, including Walter Sisulu, Govan Mbeki, Raymond Mhlaba, and Ahmed
Kathrada. The police uncovered a cache of documents, including
"Operation Mayibuye," and other incriminating evidence that
detailed the ANC's plans and operations.
- Rivonia Trial:
- The evidence seized during the Liliesleaf raid led to the infamous
Rivonia Trial, where Nelson Mandela and other key leaders were tried for
sabotage and conspiracy to overthrow the government. The trial began on
October 9, 1963, and concluded on June 12, 1964, with Mandela and seven
others being sentenced to life imprisonment. Mandela delivered his famous
speech from the dock, declaring his readiness to die for the ideal of a
democratic and free society.
Legacy of
Liliesleaf Farm
Today, Liliesleaf Farm is a museum and
heritage site, commemorating the sacrifices and contributions of the
anti-apartheid activists who operated there. It stands as a testament to the
struggle for freedom and the resilience of those who fought against the
oppressive apartheid regime. The farm's preservation serves as an educational
resource and a symbol of the enduring fight for justice and equality in South
Africa.
We wandered through the grounds and examined the outbuildings where the dramatic events had taken place, and then looked for a public toilet before returning to the car. A rough brick building that once served as a store had been converted into a modern, well-appointed ladies and gents. I entered the cool interior and stood at the stainless-steel urinal. I had almost finished emptying my bladder when I glanced up and was startled to find myself face to face with my own reflection. There I was, holding my old organ and pissing into the silver receptacle. How extraordinary! Never before had I encountered such a feature in a public convenience. I was actually watching myself urinate! This was a brand-new experience, and it called to mind the labyrinthian mental game played by Borges in his short fictions. It was entirely feasible for someone to stand in the doorway and not only see me from both rear and front, but also to watch me watching myself, and at the same time me noticing the observer behind me. For a brief moment I imagined the arrival of a tall black man dressed like a gardener. He caught my eye in the mirror, glanced down, and said something in isiXhosa, which I took to be both humorous and mildly insulting. Then he was gone.
"Where to now, Guy?” I asked from the back seat as we drove away from Liliesleaf Farm.
“Alexandra township.”
“Ah, that should also be interesting. Hope we
don’t get hijacked.”
