Pretoria - Petros Mbedzi mumbles to himself and occasionally laughs out at his own silent joke as he sits on his favourite couch in the lounge of his Mamelodi East house.
His eyes are half closed, and as he continues to drift in and out of lucidity, his body is wracked by hiccups which force him to break his conversation every few seconds. He seems to be unaware of the discussion going on around him.
“He can stay in this state for anything up to three days and beyond, but it is the hiccups that leave him without the capacity to be normal,” his wife Gladys said, adding the latest bout of hiccups started on Friday morning.
Mbedzi turns his eyes towards his wife of 23 years and echoes one or two of the last words of her sentences, seemingly nodding in agreement as she told of the huge difference in the young man she married, and the 52-year-old man who has now become like a small child.
Mbedzi has lived with a bullet in his skull for 30 years. Removing it would be more detrimental to his health, doctors say.
He was 21 when he was hit by the bullet in the back of his head during what is now known as the Mamelodi massacre. On the morning of November 21, 1985, the defence force and police opened fire at protesters marching to the then Mamelodi Town Council offices to present a memorandum to mayor Bennett Ndlazi.
Parents and children had gathered peacefully and started their slow walk to the mayor’s office. But live ammunition and teargas were unleashed on the estimated 50 000 unarmed residents, leaving 14 dead and many more injured.
Mbedzi was there only because his mother took part in the march. He always wanted to be with her, especially when there were signs of danger, his sister Emily Sadiki said.
Only later that afternoon did the family realise that he was missing. They later learnt that he had been taken to HF Verwoerd Hospital - now Steve Biko Hospital. “We found him in a coma. He remained like that for many months,” the sister said.
Mbedzi returned from hospital a changed young man - slower and less vibrant. The side effects of the bullet broke their mother’s heart, and she was never the same person again until her death in 2008.
“She always prayed to God to outlive him, as she didn’t want him suffering after she was gone,” his wife said.
His mother would sit with him when his wife was at work. After she died, he never seemed to register that loss.
His sister described the boy she watched grow up as one with a great sense of humour, a cheerful child who loved everybody and had no time to worry or stress.
“He was jolly. That's something he has not lost even with the debilitating bullet in his head,” she said.
“He never fails to find something to joke about in his lucid state and makes light of everything, shaming those feeling sorry for him.”
When his wife met him, he was a fine young man who had a job, friends and often went out to socialise. “You could pick up signs of illness only when you paid enough attention,” she said.
But over the years, his state of mind deteriorated so much that she had to quit her job to be with him all the time. “I cannot leave him alone nor allow him out of the gate alone.”
Mbedzi has epileptic fits and runs the risk of collapsing or not being found. “He also loses his sense of time and place. He does not know how to identify himself or give his address.”
At times, he cannot recognise his wife and their 22-year-old daughter, and thinks his sister is their mother. “He also thinks he lives in B2 section with his mother and says this is his brother’s house.”
Mbedzi also has his good days, when he sits with the family and talks. Although he cannot relate the events of that fateful day of his shooting 30 years ago, he does mention he was shot during a march.
He watches TV and follows some shows, and although he can feed himself, his wife feeds him to avoid the mess he inevitably makes.
The family also spoke of the harsh circumstances in which they live, saying they have received no recognition nor assistance from the government, despite their sole provider having being incapacitated while protesting for a better life.
Mbedzi has been forgotten, as if he was shot during a pub brawl, they said.
On Saturday, the Mbedzi family’s life went on as normal, without any fanfare around the event that changed his life forever.
When his wife walked her sister-in-law and other visitors out of the house, he stood up to follow her.
As a Pretoria News team thanked him for his time and said goodbye, Mbedzi temporarily snapped out of his daze. In a voice that belied his apparent lack of attention of the previous hour, he said “thank you and go well”.
Pretoria News
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