Please Don't Call Me Thandi

The Rape Victim of Kwa Mashu.……………………………………....Toronto, November 2007.

My name is uThandeka. I was born on the third day of December 1980, in a ghetto called Kwa Mashu on the outskirts of the City of Durban on the East Coast of South Africa. My name means the Lovable One in isiZulu- one of the eleven official languages of the country.

I feel uncomfortable when people call me Thandi-short for uThandeka-, because it reminds me of the day when my uncle uMandlakayise raped me, for as he raped me he kept on repeating my name saying “Thandi, Thandi, Thandi, Thandi .……” many times.

Like most young girls who have been raped I am ashamed of myself, because I could not complain to anyone, except my Grandmother, uGogo, uMmaNkabinde who said “…rape is the price you pay for being a beautiful girl in Kwa Mashu.” I felt that she was blaming me, the victim.

According to uBoniswa- my aunt- (the One who was Shown Visions)-I was born “a real bundle of joy.” She told me she was the one who gave me the name uThandeka. My mother liked the name iNkosazana (the Princess), that is why my full name is iNkosazana-e-Thandekayo, meaning the Princess who is Lovable.


I am also told that my uncle, uMandlakayise (meaning His Father’s Power), was so impressed with my looks that he emptied the film in his camera taking pictures of me when he first saw me. One of those pictures appeared on the front page of Ilanga Lase Natal, our provincial newspaper. The clippings from that newspaper occupy pride of place on the wall of my Grandmothers’ living room.

My Aunt uBoniswa, piles lots of praises on me every time she meets me. “I could say from the very day you were born,” she always tells me, “that you were going to be the Queen of Kwa Mashu.”

“Is that why you named me uThandeka?” I asked her.

“Yes! I named you uThandeka. Your mother called you iNkosazana-meaning the Princess, because she claimed that your good looks were fit for royalty. Everyone felt that the young-men of Kwa Mashu would worship the ground on which you stood.” She said.

But leave it to my Grandmother, uGogo, uMmaNkabinde as we fondly call her, to give praises to the ‘beauties’ of our tribe. On every visit to my Gogo’s apartment I am certain to hear of our good looks and especially mine, and that many people say I look like her.

On such visits, I would also be shown her photo-album and the trophies she won in her youthful years. Also in the album are photos my mother, uNomusa-The Merciful Lady- with her trophies and a special photo of hers with Cedric Xulu and Ace Mnikathi-the stars of the Zulu Royals Football Club of the nineteen sixties, taken when she was chosen the Miss Zulu Royals Football.

On my last to visit to my Grandmother’s, she gave me a long hard gaze and said, “Thandi, my child’s child, look at me in the eyes, I want you to know that it is now your turn to give the Zulu Nation a Beauty Queen, you’re going to be Miss Inkatha Freedom Party.” She demanded.

“I cannot be Ms. Inkatha Freedom Party, Gogo.” I protested.

“Why?” she asked.

“You know that I am not a member of the Inkatha Freedom Party.” I said. “What if I refuse?” I added.

“You dare not refuse.” She said.

“Gogo,” I said,” have you ever considered the impact this could have on me? Don’t you think that this exposure will make every young-man in Kwa Mashu want to rape me?”

“You’re being a pessimist, Thandi. Be an optimist. Don’t think of rape. Think of the possibility that every young man in Kwa Mashu would wish to marry you if you win this contest.”

“Gogo, I have no interested in being married to any ‘young-man of Kwa Mashu’. My eyes are seeing far away, beyond the boundaries of Kwa Zulu.” I said with a smile on my face.

“You must be joking, because we have big plans for you.” She said with a soft laughter.

“What are those ‘big plans’ and who are these ‘we’ who have plans for me?” I asked her curiously.

“This is confidential and please promise to keep this a secret. Will you?” she asked.

“Gogo, these plans involves me. I have a need to know what these plans are and who these people are.” I said.

“True, you have a need to know, but unless you promise to keep this a secret, I cannot answer you. Will you swear by your Late Grandfather to keep this a secret?” She asked again.

“Gogo, I swear by my late Grandfather that I will keep this secret,” I answered, showing solemnity by crossing my index fingers.

“Good girl,” she said, “now I can have a serious discussion with you. As you know, your uncle is a member of the National Executive Committee of the Inkatha Freedom Party of South Africa. You know that, don’t you?” She asked.

“Yes, I know that Gogo,” I said.

“He was here yesterday to tell me that the Party has authorized the Youth League to organize a Beauty Contest as a Fundraising Event and your name came up as a possible contestant. He was requested to ensure your participation. Will you participate, my child’s child?”

“NO! I cannot accept this, Gogo,” I said protested.

“Thandi, my child’s child,” said my Gogo, “you must accept this. It comes from your uncle, you know how furious he can be when he is rejected. Please say Yes!”

“I am refusing, Gogo, and if you want to know why, it is because of my uncle.” I said. “You know that I want nothing to do with him,” spreading my hands to emphasize my point.

uGogo became mad with rage. She hid her face in her hands and took a deep breath and then said; “but tell me, my child’s child, why do you hate your uncle so much?” She asked, barely concealing her rage.

“Gogo, wouldn’t you hate somebody who raped you?” I asked her in return.

“I would, my child’s child,” she answered, struggling to maintain her calm, “but I wouldn’t allow that to stand between me and the prize of being the Princess of Kwa Mashu. Do you know how many young girls have been raped by their uncles in Kwa Mashu? Rape is a common thing in Kwa Mashu. Think about that, Thandeka!” She added.

“Oh Yes, Gogo! I thought about that many times. I know that thousands of young girls have been raped by their uncles or other close relatives in Kwa Mashu. But I think that this must stop, more especially during these days of the AIDS Pandemic.” I said. “If I could help it, no girl in the whole world would ever be raped by anyone, let alone a close relative. Whoever did that would be severely punished. I would rather be remembered as the girl who brought an end to rape than for being a titular Princess of Kwa Mashu,” I said with tears streaming down my cheeks.

“I promise to help you fight the AIDS Pandemic if you agree to participate in this contest. It will be easier to fight this Pandemic when you are a Princess than being a wasted pretty girl in Kwa Mashu. Please be a Princess for your Gogo Thandi,” she appealed.

“I told you some time back Gogo, that I believe that these days, beauty is skin deep.” I answered. “I strongly believe in those words. For me beauty lies in the heart. One cannot be beautiful if one is evil.” I continued.

“What do you mean when you say ‘these days beauty is skin deep’?” she asked. “You’re far from being evil, if you were, it would not have been necessary to plead with you to join this contest. You’re doing this for your Gogo. Will you do that for me, Thandi?” with earnestness showing in her face.

“No! Gogo, I will not. Look at aunt Boni,” I said. “Someone poured boiling water on her face for that. I don’t want to look like that, Gogo.” I replied.

“No! Thandi my child’s child,” She replied. “I want you to be Ms. Inkatha Freedom Party, not to have someone pour boiling water on your face. You must look beyond your aunt uBoniswa, look at uNobuhle (Ms. Beautiful) her daughter. See how pretty she looks? It shows that beauty is in our blood and not on our skin.” She said with pride.

“Gogo, I told you I have plans of my own,” I said, trying to change the topic. “I need time to think about them.”

“You need to think about them fast!” She said, ignoring my plea for a chance to consider my plans, “the whole Zulu Nation is waiting for your decision. They cannot wait for ever,” she said, indicating impatience. “Your uncle, uMandla will be furious if you make the wrong decision.” She warned.

The mention of my uncle’s name made me feel like exploding. I tried to stand up but couldn’t. I was glued to the chair on which I was seating. The words “..your uncle will be furious…”kept ringing in my head. That made me angry. Finally I stood up and said “Gogo, I can’t stand this any longer. What if I loose?” I asked her for what appeared to be the umpteenth time.

“I told you that there is no way you could loose, Thandi, this contest is yours to win, you just take part and you win. We always win these contests. One last time, Thandi, my child’s child, are you going to disappoint me? I need to know your answer now before your uncle arrives. He will be here anytime now.” I could sense her exacerbation.

“Yes, Gogo! I am going to disappoint you. I am not going to be Ms. Inkatha Freedom Party. I will not allow myself to be made into a political football.” I said, with some finality.

“Please say yes! Thandi, If you say yes! I will do anything for you,” she implored. “If you refuse, your uncle will not speak to you again,” she threatened.

“Besides, you know that my father, uMtimkhulu (Big Tree) hates these contests, did you ask his opinion?” I asked, trying to postpone the unpleasant decision.

“Thandi, my child’s child, your father is an idiot. He knows nothing about Beauty Contests,” she said. “He is an old-fashioned Zulu man,” she added.

“Perhaps I should ask for his permission, don’t you think so,” I asked.

“No! You are not going to waste my time because of an old fashioned Zulu man.” She said, angrily.

“But you wouldn’t want to anger him, would you?” I asked. “You know how an angry Zulu man reacts.” I said, with a smile on my face.

She smiled back and said, “Yes I know, but I can always get uncle uMandla, to deal with him.”

“I wouldn’t like to see two angry Zulu men clash over me,” I said jokingly.

She also laughed and added; “jokes aside, you will get media exposure and a key to a career in modeling and more especially in filming.” She said, still trying to convince me.

“I am not interested in a modeling or an acting career,” I said. “I’d rather be a nurse to help the
sick than be a model or a film star.” I added.

“Remember, I promised to do anything for you if you accept this proposal,” showing increased anger. “Will you take this opportunity or not?” she asked again.

“I am afraid I won’t, Gogo. I do not want to be the laughing stock of Kwa Mashu.” I said, giving myself the chance to show some anger.

“No one laughs at someone who looses a beauty contest, Thandeka.” She said, whilst coming closer to me so as to emphasize her point. Suddenly she shouted, “do you know how many girls would die for an opportunity like this one?” she asked “You have a chance of a life time Thandi! You will remember this opportunity,” she said in an attempt to give me a final push. “All you need to do is to enter this contest and win,” she tried to assure me again.

“I told you Gogo, I can’t take that chance. I will be devastated if I lost.” I said.

“So, you have a problem of self-confidence, Thandeka, I will talk to MmaNdlovu, the Sangoma to help with your self-confidence.” She said with a smile.

I smiled back and nodded my head in an effort to calm her. She mistook this to mean agreement with her. “Yes!” she said, “My Granddaughter is going to be Miss Inkatha Freedom Party 2007.”

“I cannot be a Beauty Queen of a Party that I am not a member of, Gogo. Besides, if I loose, I may kill myself. That is why I do not want to join this contest. I am not a good loser. I told you that many times,” I repeated.

“Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “you will not loose because your uncle will fix that,” she said. “He can arrange such things.”

“Did you say Uncle Mandla can fix this, Gogo?” sensing an opportunity to close this discussion once and for all I shouted, “I cannot take part in a fixed competition. Did you say this was a fixed competition?” I asked, feigning astonishment.

“Yes! I said your Uncle Mandla can fix such things for you. As you know uMandla is a bulldozer.

“Yes! You are right!” I retorted. “I know that my uncle is a bulldozer. He always wants to have things his way. It is high time he met his match. I am that match. I will not be Ms. Inkatha Freedom Party.” I said.

“You dare not stand on your Uncle’s way, he will smash you to bits if you do.” She said.

If my Grandmother intended to intimidate me with those words, she was wrong because those words had the opposite effect. They angered me. I became adamant in my refusal to participate in the competition. I stood up from the chair on which I was seating and stormed out of my Gogo’s apartment. I haven’t been back there ever since.

Dudley George: And How Can A Man Die Better?

by Ezrom Serame Mokgakala.

Dudley George: Smiling in his grave.

Although Dudley George died an angry man, he must be smiling in his grave, for his blood was not shed in vain. He has been vindicated. He will be remembered as the only brave man killed in a land dispute in Canada, in the 20th Century, for he was shot and killed while defending the burial-grounds of his forefathers from the clutches of a heavily armed Ontario Provincial Police Force. On December 20, 2007 the Ontario Government announced that the disputed land will be e returned to his people.

Dudley George was shot and killed while protesting the refusal of successive Canadian Governments to honour a commitment made to them more than half a century ago-in 1942 to be more excat-. Using the War Measures Act, the Government seized the land for use as a Military Training Camp with a promise that it will be returned to its owners at the end of the war. The War ended and that promise was not kept until Dudley George and his compatriots chose to peacefully occupy it and demand that it be returned to his people. An angry Ontario Government ordered they be removed by the Provincial Police from the land when a stand off ensued, leading to the violent death of an unarmed and peacefully demonstrating Dudley George.

By some accounts this could not have happened at a worse time for the protestors as Ontario had a very reactionary “red-neck” government which preferred the use force and in the words of one leading government official to drive the “F.. .. natives” out the camp. The then Premier of Ontario, Mr. Mike Harris to whom the words were attributed has vehemently denied using any racist words in addressing the land dispute.

Dudley George was shot and killed by Kenneth Deane, who was himself killed in a road accident just before giving evidence before the Commission. However, as the Minister of Indian Affairs made the announcement about the return of the land, I could not help but imagine the late Dudley George smiling in his grave and remembered the famous words of Thomas B. Macaulay who said, “and how can a man die better, that facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods.”

We can all hope and pray that Dudley George’s soul will now rest in peace.

And How Can A Man Die Better!

by Ezrom Serame Mokgakala.

Dudley George: Smiling in his grave.

Although Dudley George died an angry man, he must be smiling in his grave, for his blood was not shed in vain. He has been vindicated. He will be remembered as the only brave man killed in a land dispute in Canada, in the 20th Century, for he was shot and killed while defending the burial-grounds of his forefathers from the clutches of a heavily armed Ontario Provincial Police Force. On December 20, 2007 the Ontario Government announced that the disputed land will be e returned to his people.

Dudley George was shot and killed while protesting the refusal of successive Canadian Governments to honour a commitment made to them more than half a century ago-in 1942 to be more excat-. Using the War Measures Act, the Government seized the land for use as a Military Training Camp with a promise that it will be returned to its owners at the end of the war. The War ended and that promise was not kept until Dudley George and his compatriots chose to peacefully occupy it and demand that it be returned to his people. An angry Ontario Government ordered they be removed by the Provincial Police from the land when a stand off ensued, leading to the violent death of an unarmed and peacefully demonstrating Dudley George.

By some accounts this could not have happened at a worse time for the protestors as Ontario had a very reactionary “red-neck” government which preferred the use force and in the words of one leading government official to drive the “F.. .. natives” out the camp. The then Premier of Ontario, Mr. Mike Harris to whom the words were attributed has vehemently denied using any racist words in addressing the land dispute.

Dudley George was shot and killed by Kenneth Deane, who was himself killed in a road accident just before giving evidence before the Commission. However, as the Minister of Indian Affairs made the announcement about the return of the land, I could not help but imagine the late Dudley George smiling in his grave and remembered the famous words of Thomas B. Macaulay who said, “and how can a man die better, that facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods.”

We can all hope and pray that Dudley George’s soul will now rest in peace.

The N Word

I hate it when someone calls me a Nigger, especially when that someone is an African American to whom the word should be more hurtful. However, I notice that African Americans call each other by that word and do not seem to take offense when they use it among themselves. However I still cannot take it from anyone.
Let's be blunt. Nigger means lynching. It means hundreds of white people, including children, gathered to watch a black man, a human being, dragged, beaten, hung from a tree and cooked alive. It means grinding poverty. Today -- not 30 years ago, but today -- blacks are disproportionately poor, hungry and die of illnesses which do not kill whites. This is true all across planet earth and all over the United States. It means police harassment and brutality. Being pulled over by the police for lesser, or no transgressions; being shot 41 times after going for your wallet; it means a toilet plunger; it means a disproportionate number of black people arrested, convicted and imprisoned.
This is the America of today. Am I happy to live in this environment? Of course not but I come from a place where things are worse. Here, at least my wits can allow me to go some distance before I am stopped and harassed. In South Africa I had to flee to save my skin. Can things get worse than described above?
The answer is an emphatic yes! America is on the brink of a very violent revolution. The ordinary redneck is armed to the tooth, thanks to the National Rifle Association. The KKK is resurgent. Racism is rampant while the law claims to have proscribed it. Apologists of the racist system point to the appearance of black faces in formerly all white positions in society. These appearances have never been more misleading. White racism is arming at an alarming rate. Call me an alarmist if you wish. What alarms me most is the lackadaisical manner in which our people are responding to this situation.
Should we arm ourselves given this situation? My answer is an emphatic NO! because no one is going to win following this carnage. This is bound to be a very bloody affair as several groups are gradually collecting massive arsenals that will be unleashed to an unsuspecting world.
Let us hope this prognosis is wrong.

Ezrom's The Leadership Award

Ezrom Mokgakala (Leadership)
Held in jail in South Africa for 180 days without trial, Ezrom was brutally interrogated, tortured and imprisoned for three years for being a member of an "unlawful" organization. In 1983, Ezrom fled from South Africa. Upon arrival in Canada, as a refugee, he began working as a community worked in the Jane/Finch corridor of Toronto. Ezrom began to take a leadership role in advocating policies and programs to assist newcomers in Toronto. He is co-chair of the Toronto Refugee Affairs Council; a Director of the Refugee Rights Festival; an editor of Refugee Voices; and a member of the Coalition for a Just Refugee and Immigration Policy; The Black Secretariat; Parkdale Community Health Centre; and the Council of African Organizations in Ontario. Currently, Ezrom is program worker at CultureLink providing critical support to newcomers in Toronto

. Made for Success Quote and Commentary
"Swallow your pride occasionally, it's not fattening." -- Frank Tyger
Chris' Commentary:
There is good pride (taking pride in your work) and there is bad pride (being so proud you think more highly of yourself than you ought). We're talking about swallowing the second kind today. Pride is an interesting thing. It drives us deeper and deeper into trouble. We first recognize it and we don't admit it. This is too bad because we could be let off the hook at this point of recognition. Your money could be saved. A relationship could be restored. But instead, we say, "No way am I going to admit it." And things get worse, and worse, and worse, with each time we refuse to humble ourselves. Believe me, I know from experience! But won't you get walked on? Sometimes I suppose, but that is the price you pay for getting it right the rest of the time.
Action Point: Is there something you have dug into your bunker about? Is there a mistake you have made but won't admit, or a person you have offended but won't reconcile with? Think about it. Then take a step today to get it right. Eat your pride for lunch instead of that turkey sandwich!

Ezrom and Irene Mokgakala: Biography

Ezrom (Easy) and Irene (MmaMosala) Mokgakala have been married for more than fourty years. They have three sons, Solly, Mduduzi and Itumeleng and a cute five year-old grandson named Raheem Serame Mokgakala. The family has contributed a great deal in raising awareness of Anti-Apartheid activities in Toronto during the nineteen-eighties and early nineteen nineties. Easy Mokgakala, an active Community Leader, served time on the infamous Robben Island in the nineteen sixties.


Ezrom Mokgakala has worked for more that a decade as a Program Worker at CultureLink Settlement Services of Toronto where he assisted New Canadians to find accommodation and employment in the City. His sterling work at CultureLink earned him an Agency Staff Award. He was also given an award for his work as Chairman of the Toronto Refugee Affairs Council and was given a New Pioneers’ Award for Leadership by Skills For Change, a settlement agency based in Toronto in 1994.

Irene MmaMosala Kenosi Mokgakala (nee Mokaleng) has been a pillar of strength for her family. She withstood the harassment experienced by the spouses of Freedom Fighters at the hands the Security Police of racist South Africa for many years until she decided to join her husband in exile.

Risking arrest, she bravely led her sons across the border into The Democratic Republic of Botswana to join the Anti-Apartheid Struggle in exile before joining her husband in Canada. Her valiant spirit has helped her overcome the difficulties of leading her family in adjusting to a new environment.

On arriving in Canada, she immediately joined the Black Consciousness Movement of Azania and the Azania Support Committee, under the leadership of Comrades Gerald Phokobye and Thato Bereng to mobilize support for the International Anti-Apartheid Movement.

The couple is presently enjoying their retirement years in Toronto.