 |
|
| Related Articles |
| More Politics stories |
| Online Services |
|
 |
||
| Date Your Destiny | ||
|
||
| More Services |
|
| More Politics Stories |
| Memories of the liberation struggle |
|
Janet Smith May 11 2008 at 01:57PM |
Get IOL on your mobile at m.iol.co.za |
It could be the set of a left-wing Sixties drama. Chartreuse curtains at the patio doors, a Picasso print, a Shona sculpture, a futuristic Harmony sofa with a dozen pillows. The image - a vivid tableau of white men against white - is in the collection from the notorious police raid on Liliesleaf Farm on July 11 1963. It has all the emotional weight of a truncheon on the neck, representing a key moment in the drama as Umkhonto weSizwe's first high command was finally captured, the sophisticated master-servant charade of the farm in tatters. The urbane group of men who occupied Liliesleaf in the 1960s wouldn't always have discussed politics in the lounge of the manor house. There might have been conversations about other things, such as the suicide of the American poet Sylvia Plath, France's underground nuclear testing or the extraordinary strike that collapsed newspaper publishing in New York for more than 100 days. The detail of many of the memories is still unfolding, as more and more stories emerge about this seminal moment in the liberation struggle. These tales, together with the remarkable pictures taken by police in that fateful year, will soon entrance visitors at the Liliesleaf Museum and Liberation Centre in Rivonia. An ambitious, expensive project of interactive tables, tranquil walkways and narration, it is being driven "by the gut" of Nicholas Wolpe, the director of the Liliesleaf Trust, who was one of a group of friends who first started talking about transforming the site into a museum over breakfast in 2001. Despite it being known all over the world, Liliesleaf had been all but forgotten, as more and more museums documenting aspects of the broader history of the struggle were being established around the country. The first phase of the farm project opens at last next month. Wolpe likes to call the project "Liliesleaf uncovered", and it has indeed been a campaign of luminous discovery. Archaeologists from the National Museum in Bloemfontein spent months on site, painstakingly piecing together the outbuildings where, among others, Nelson Mandela had lived in humble circumstances, pretending to be a gardener known as David Motsamai. There are many stories about the chicken coop, the coal shed where Mandela's papers and typewriter were found and the manor house itself, now restored to look exactly as it was captured in police photos, which ran in major newspapers around the world in 1963. It is the police photographers - who spilled out of the most suburban of Trojan horses, a dry-cleaning van, on that chilly Highveld morning nearly 45 years ago - who have given flesh to the museum that is growing at Liliesleaf. Their pictures reveal much about the virtuous men who lived at the farm in the 1960s and capture something beyond the altered appearances and the atmosphere of conspiracy. In Nyasaland (now Malawi), there had been freedom since February under Hastings Banda. A few weeks before the raid, Jomo Kenyatta had become the first prime minister of Kenya. Later that year, Uganda and Nigeria would become republics within the Commonwealth, Gambia would get full self-government and the Sultan of Zanzibar would, at last, cede his lavish mainland possessions to Kenya. But black South Africans were 30 years away from freedom. The events at Liliesleaf were reported largely from the perspective of a stuttering, bourgeois white South Africa. To them, communists had been gathering to exact a violent overthrow of the National Party, and it was a startling distraction from the Tupperware parties. Even the intellectuals - who were taken up with the vision of Aldous Huxley's Brave New World that year - were compelled to contemplate their deepest racist fears. Although the tragedy of Sharpeville had happened in March 1960, followed by a state of emergency, the detention of thousands and the banning of the ANC, for whites, July 1963 was a bleak midwinter. The museum, says Wolpe, intends to "provide a place for contemplation about those times". "The collective leadership [at Liliesleaf] personified the diverse political, social, cultural and religious backgrounds of South Africans. They had set aside their personal aspirations, rising above petty ambition and interests, and it is this that we want to show here." Goldreich, a member of the South African Communist Party, had fronted as the white owner at the farm, which was owned by the party at the time. His family shared its grounds, a substantial acreage, at various times with Mandela, Govan Mbeki, the wry and gregarious Walter Sisulu, Ahmed Kathrada, Bram Fischer, Joe Slovo, Ruth First, Raymond Mhlaba, Rusty Bernstein, Bob Hepple, Harold Wolpe, Denis Goldberg and others. The irony was that it had been decided that July 11 would be the final rendezvous at Liliesleaf. The leadership was aware that its gatherings were becoming littered with small betrayals. There was an edge to their intelligence. That day, they were to have met to discuss some critical points about Operation Mayibuye - their bold plan to overthrow white rule using guerrilla tactics - before they shifted their operation to another farm. But the presence of Sisulu - who was effectively in hiding, facing a jail term - would result in the arrival of the dry-cleaning van. Wolpe has immersed himself in the memories of Liliesleaf, whose gripping narratives outline the desperate race and power struggles of the era. The events of that July day crafted a prism through which South Africans clearly saw their divide. "It's like throwing a stone into a pond. The ripples and waves get wider and wider," Wolpe says. Chief researcher Sarah Haines says: "It has been like being on a treasure hunt, and it has been very moving. "We interviewed a woman, Hilary Simons, who had sat on her story for 40 years. In fact, she had concealed her story for 40 years - about her husband Ted Framm, who was a driver who spirited Wolpe and Goldreich into Swaziland. "You realise that a lot of the people connected to the Liliesleaf story were just ordinary, they weren't into politics. They were good, normal people and yet they made a contribution. So it is certainly not only Nelson Mandela we focus on. So many lives were linked." The stories Wolpe particularly seems to like, and which will be highlighted in the museum, are about the white children who lived or holidayed on the farm at the time. Goldreich's young sons, Nicholas and Paul, had been tutored to understand that the white police were the enemy, but July 11 was a devastating and confusing day for them. There's an image of them squinting into the sunshine through the window of their bedroom in the manor house. It will be styled as it was then when the next phase of the museum happens. "When Paul was interrogated, he said he could remember bombs being buried on the grounds," Wolpe relates. "But I find it extraordinary that police believed a five- or six-year-old." The boys were locked in their bedroom for 19 hours during the raid. They had a handful of sweets and the company of the Goldreich family's domestic worker, Enith Ngobeni. Although Ngobeni was not involved in any of the clandestine activities at Liliesleaf, she, too, was to become a victim of the security police. In 2001, Wolpe - whose father Harold was also arrested, but made a daring escape through Swaziland with Goldreich - was so taken with the idea of restoring Liliesleaf, that he approached the ANC with the idea to buy the separate properties that now make up the site. Mendi Msimang, then the ANC's treasurer-general, was among those excited by the project, but money had to be raised outside. Ultimately, a British benefactor - who has significant mining and cultural interests - would provide R10 million to the restoration. The British American Tobacco Company also contributed. And slowly, other big businesses are beginning to get involved. But Wolpe says a great deal of cash is still required to complete phases two and three. There were complexities around the original purchase, as three properties had to be bought first. After 1963, Liliesleaf went through different owners and shifts in its use. Before the trust was established and agreements reached on settlement for the families who owned the land, the manor house had been used as a luxury guesthouse, the neighbourhood studded with increasingly wealthy residents. It has cost its benefactors more than R20 million so far, and government has also put in several million. But for Haines, every cent is important: "We are not in competition with any other great struggle site, like, say Robben Island. Although we would naturally tell some of the same stories, Liliesleaf is such a seminal institution - it's the centre that links so many places, people and events. "We really feel it is a hub for drawing together all of these strands of liberation stories. But much like the ANC's own policy, we believe in the importance of the greater events, not only the individuals. "It's an enthralling vision."
|
Social bookmarking allows users to save and categorise a personal collection of bookmarks and share them with others. This is different to using your own browser bookmarks which are available using the menus within your web browser.
Use the links below to share this article on the social bookmarking site of your choice.
Read more about social bookmarking at Wikipedia - Social Bookmarking
Use the links below to share this article on the social bookmarking site of your choice.
Read more about social bookmarking at Wikipedia - Social Bookmarking
StumbleUpon
Reddit
Digg
Delicious
Newsvine
Facebook
muti
Twitter
| Breaking News | Most Read Stories |
|
|
| Entertainment | Motoring | |
|
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|
|
