Читать книгу The Backroom Boy - Mandla Mathebula - Страница 9

Andrew Mlangeni’s military training in China and the eventual contact with Mao was the culmination of a political journey that had started about two decades earlier. The genesis of his political career was his graduation from Standard 6 at Pimville government school at the end of 1943, marking the beginning of his political activism and subsequent ascendency into higher ranks and eventual militarisation.

Like most primary schools at the time, the Pimville government school ended at Standard 6. This is where Sekila, his other older brother, with whom he had been staying, had enrolled him on his arrival to join him and his mother in the City of Gold – Johannesburg – and who at the beginning of 1944 enrolled him at St Peter’s Secondary School at Rosettenville where he began his secondary education. The school was said to be one of the best in the Johannesburg region. Its principal was Mr DH Darling, a very tall and imposing man. Students and African teachers called him ‘Sdakwa’ (drunkard – a nickname based on his character, in a figurative way rather than literally) and ‘Mabhekaphezulu’ (one who walks looking upwards). The former referred to his temperamental nature (rigid application of school rules but frequent arbitrary decisions); the latter had to do with his physical appearance – to be exact, the way he walked, looking up and posing a gigantic presence. A strict disciplinarian and a very professional leader, Darling was jealously protective of his school, insisting that everyone else should be the same. He was selective of the institutions his school should exchange cultural and sporting activities with, to guard against its being associated with what he believed were ‘mediocre institutions’ offering inferior education and allowing ‘relaxed’ levels of discipline. He would constantly remind his staff and students that his school aimed to produce future leaders and not cheap passes to low-level professionalism. He favoured Kilnerton in Pretoria and Wilberforce in Evaton, which he respected more than any other school in the broader region of Pretoria-Witwatersrand-Vereeniging and he would threaten ill-disciplined students with dismissal and deportation to the infamous Fort Cox Agricultural School in the Eastern Cape, which he regarded as of a lower standard – this threat would send shivers up the students’ spines. His pride in the institution he was leading created a sense of loyalty to the school in students and staff and instilled an urge to be a responsible citizen. In the long run it would inculcate a high sense of moral duty in those who were associated with the institution and allow them to impart this to those who were not fortunate enough to be part of the school.

The teachers included Oliver Tambo, who taught Mathematics and Physical Science. Andrew remembered him as ‘one of the brightest teachers of the time and a rising political leader’. He had joined the school as a teacher a year previously. Others were Mr Benjamin Musi for Arithmetic, Mr Pretorius and Mr Mitchell for Geography, Mr Bernade for Afrikaans and Mr Stanley Sikhakhane for English. There were also two much admired female members of staff: Miss Mamabolo, who was one of the first black women to have a university degree and Mrs Lindsay whose leadership qualities Andrew would respect for the rest of his life. Women were not as associated with leadership as men and therefore Mrs Mamabolo and Mrs Lindsay were a rare breed in the eyes of Andrew, and probably of many other students as well as their own colleagues. Mrs Mamabolo’s achievements formed the foundation of Andrew’s respect for the intelligence of women, in contrast to what his own father believed and the way he treated Andrew’s sisters – and in contrast to how his father could have influenced him and his brothers. ‘My father believed it was a waste of time to teach his daughters to read and write, let alone to educate them for a better career and a meaningful contribution to society.’ Mr Mitchell was a fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, the UK’s learned society and professional body for Geography, founded in 1830 for the advancement of geographical sciences.

Tambo’s political role among black people was something already recognised and respected by many. But it was his levelheadedness that would leave a solid print on Andrew. ‘He could digest issues quickly and make an informed and sober decision.’ This, and Darling’s way of leading and the manner in which he was fully in charge of the school, would lay a solid foundation for Andrew’s own leadership style.

At St Peter’s, Andrew was reunited with Duma Nokwe who, although a year younger, was ahead of him and had been his fellow student at Pimville government school. Nokwe was already an active member of the Young Communist League (YCL). He would later play a prominent role in the ANC in years to come and would also contribute a great deal to the history of black professionals in the country. Andrew was also reunited with Victor Moorosi, another former Pimville student, and Henry Gordon Makgothi, whose uncle, Squire Makgothi, had taught him at Pimville (Gordon was also known as Squire to those who knew his uncle). The confidence of these boys and their principled stance on a number of critical issues was amazing. ‘They were ambitious and exhibited an advanced level of political consciousness. They were confident and could stand their ground without losing their cool. They seemed to have the respect of both teachers and students.’

Later, when he had settled down at St Peter’s, Andrew also met new students who, over time, he found to be more than mere learners. One was Joe Matthews, a bright young man from an affluent and highly political family. They called him ‘professor’, a name derived from the title of his father, ZK Matthews, a university lecturer and high ranking member of the Communist Party of South Africa (CPSA). This boy, although three years younger than Andrew, emerged as one of the people Andrew would admire and treat with great respect. Joe Matthews had lived in Durban and the Eastern Cape and had studied at the famous Lovedale College in Alice before St Peter’s. ‘Joe Matthews was already a politically sharpened machine, groomed to lead, and he seemed to understand it.’ Andrew would later get closer to boys such as John Mpolokeng, Alfred Hutchinson and Fats Ngakane.

He found Henry Makgothi, Nokwe, Matthews and Mpolokeng to be very gifted at debate. These young men were the core of the St Peter’s debating team that other schools found difficult to defeat. As a team they had a system of debate that allowed for the introduction of the topic, followed by the argument, and the last part of the debate would summarise the facts and destroy the opposition’s arguments. The last part was affectionately called ‘sweeping’ in the St Peter’s lingo – where the opposition’s arguments were swept away. Makgothi, with his simple and relaxed style, sometimes mocking and sarcastic, was good at introducing the topic. ‘He would intimidate the opposition from the start, and reduce its confidence.’ Joe Matthews’s speciality was the middle part of the debate, with his well-researched analysis of the facts and the way in which he lined up the arguments and the sub-topics. Nokwe was the ‘destroyer’ or ‘sweeper’, killing whatever argument the opposition raised. Looking up and down and sideways as he spoke, he argued like a seasoned leader addressing cheering masses. ‘With such a combination, the St Peter’s team was unbeatable.’

Andrew did not, however, find all the students he admired to be sociable. Some students from wealthier backgrounds associated with each other rather than with those from poorer backgrounds like himself. He found Joe Matthews, in particular, to be easier with students from wealthy backgrounds. He seemed proud that he was born in Durban and that he was one of the five children of the learned Frieda and ZK Matthews (Frieda was born into the highly respected Bokwe Family and had studied at Fort Hare). With that kind of family and political background, he was regarded as a member of the aristocracy. ‘He therefore leaned more towards Nokwe and Mpolokeng who matched that background.’

The rich political environment of St Peter’s was to play a very significant role in Andrew’s political development. Having observed the housing problems and the beginning of the squatter movements, he had become more conscious of black politics than he had been before he came to Johannesburg. At first he thought of black politics as being simply about the poor living conditions of the blacks and the way they were treated by the political system, especially the police who enforced most of the laws that violated their freedoms.

James Sofasonke Mpanza was one of his earliest political influences. The role played by his brother Sekila in the native advisory boards had also added to his political consciousness. He had been observing most of the activities of these boards, and the issues they dealt with, for some time. Sekila used to attend community meetings at Ballendene Hall in Pimville and Andrew would sometimes accompany him. He took note of the concerns raised by community members, which were mostly about poor roads in the township, crime, poverty and segregation. Although Sekila’s influence extended only to community issues, it played a part in shaping Andrew’s political consciousness. Sekila also introduced Andrew to a ‘hangup’ place in Pimville, called Thababosiu (the name derived from the capital of the founder of the Basotho kingdom) – a place where people in the township met and socialised. They played traditional games like morabaraba and ncuva and discussed the issues of the day that affected them. These helped him to understand the daily challenges urban black people were facing. He took particular interest in the behaviour of police and the way they treated the black people of Pimville, especially those who were trading in African traditional beer, umqombothi. He thought even common-law criminals were treated better than those found to be selling African traditional beer or not in possession of ‘dompasses’, the identity document meant for blacks through which the government controlled almost their entire lives. He observed that African traditional beer was one of the most popular commodities that black people sold and derived income from in Pimville. This had led the nearby Kliptown police station to have a special command under a man known to the residents of Pimville as Semomane, a white policeman who took no nonsense from African traditional beer traders. ‘Everyone from the very young to the very old knew him.’ Residents of Pimville had a way of dealing with Semomane and the ruthless squad of police he commanded. They knew that every time he conducted a raid with his men he would use the only entrance to the township. The first resident to see him and his squad as they entered the township would scream ‘Khukhukhu!’ This was the community’s signal to alert one another of the arrival of Semomane and his team. The first residents to hear the signal would echo the cry and the signal would be transmitted like that throughout the township. It was a sign to say ‘police are here!’ and it was understood by all in Pimville.

People also creatively hid their traditional beer from the police. They would dig trenches outside their yards, and cover beer containers neatly with grass. If the beer was discovered outside the yards the only thing the police could do was to destroy it – they could not make any arrest as it was difficult to link it to anyone. But Semomane knew almost everyone in the township and their tricks. He would hunt for the trenches and destroy the beer.

The misery of life in the township raised Andrew’s political consciousness. His first active participation in politics, however, came through a rather docile structure that he formed with Moorosi in Pimville, early in 1944. It was called the Pimville Students and Ex-Students League. Moorosi became the chairman and organiser, a lad by the name of Andries Mazibuko became the secretary, and Andrew was its first deputy secretary. The structure focused on lecturing about good behaviour for young people, respect for adults and how youth could be useful in the community. It organised youth camps and education workshops on local politics. Mild as it was, it was a stepping stone for Andrew towards the ladder that would take him to the heights of political activism.

Soon after this structure was established, Andrew approached his cousin, Eric Ntjane, to help him establish a branch of the organisation at St Peter’s. Ntjane was younger than Andrew but, like many others, ahead of him at school. Ntjane suggested that they approach Tambo for advice. Andrew still regarded Tambo as a teacher more than anything else, although Tambo was gaining respect as the leader of the newly formed ANC Youth League (ANCYL) and associating with the likes of Nelson Mandela, Anton Lembede and Walter Sisulu, some of the rising young political leaders of the time. Ntjane and other students, ahead of Andrew’s still maturing worldview, already regarded Tambo as a political activist and leader. When Andrew and Ntjane approached Tambo he discouraged them from going ahead with the formation of the branch of their organisation at school and warned that this would not go well with Darling. ‘Sdakwa won’t like it,’ he said. ‘It would later appear as if Tambo was protecting his newly formed ANCYL’s programme, as he later spearheaded the formation of its branch at the school,’ said Andrew years later. The next step for Andrew was to join the Young Communist League (YCL) in Pimville with other youths in the township, including Robert Mahlangeni, Archie Sibeko, Simon Thomas and another whom he would remember only as Morgan. Simon Thomas, whom he would proudly describe as ‘a handsome coloured boy who spoke fluent Sotho’, had come from Alexandra.

With these young minds, Andrew would embrace the communist ideology and entrench it in others after him. His association with the YCL changed him completely and laid the foundation for his future political views and activism. In one of the many YCL meetings he attended he met a young woman, Ruth First, who was a student at the University of the Witwatersrand and one of the prominent leaders of the YCL. She first caught his interest after he learned that she was the daughter of Jewish Latvian parents fleeing anti-semitic pogroms in Eastern Europe, and he would later learn that her father Julius was one of the founding members of the Communist Party of South Africa (CPSA), the mother body of the YCL. ‘I saw her as a pretty and bright girl and respected her way of putting a message across to young communists.’ The Immorality Act of 1927 prohibiting sexual relations between whites and Africans prevented young black men from regarding young white women in any way other than a leader – and the young men of the YCL, including Andrew, looked upon her as their leader and nothing else.

Ruth First was to play a major role in moulding Andrew into a committed communist, entrenching the ideology through which he would seek freedom for his people. He held several meetings with her and met many other communists of the time. One was Joe Slovo, a young man his own age. Unlike Ruth First (who was born in Johannesburg), Slovo had been born in the village of Obeliai, in Lithuania, to parents who had been forced out of their ancestral land by anti-semitism and had fled to South Africa when he was eight years old (at the same time as Andrew was seeing a town for the first time in his life). Although he was the same age as Andrew, Slovo was working at the time, having completed his studies. Slovo was close to Ruth First, whom he later married, but they were not dating at that time – it was politics rather than romance that took centre stage at their meetings. It appeared that the two were linked by the YCL and its ideology more than anything else.

It was interaction with Ruth First, more than with Slovo, that mattered most to Andrew. In his relationship with her, Andrew found the value of freedom and contrasted it with the evil of racial segregation and discrimination. In his own words, he proclaimed that from the moment he shared life with the young white communists associated with Ruth First he felt liberated. He recalled things that happened during the time which made him feel like a free man. The mere fact that he could call his white comrades by their first names was amazing – blacks wouldn’t dare call white people by their first names. ‘Baas’ or ‘missis’ were commonly used to refer to white males and females – even their young children could not be called by their names but, rather, as ‘klein baas’ or ‘klein missis’. The fact that when visiting Ruth First at her Wits University campus residence he was served tea by a white woman meant a lot to him. Black women like his mother, who were called ‘girls’, served their white ‘masters’ tea, while calling them ‘baas’ and ‘misses’. Hugging his white male and female comrades when exchanging greetings heartened him. ‘I saw that racial segregation, which I had experienced throughout my life, was a curse on the South African nation and I was more than motivated to fight it.’

As part of the activities of the YCL, Andrew frequented the offices of the organisation, which were manned by Elsa Watts as the administrative officer. She was the sister of Hilda Watts, who would later marry Rusty Bernstein, another communist who would be very close to Andrew. Not everything was rosy, though, between Andrew and Ruth First. As time went on, he observed, rightly or wrongly, that she favoured Simon Thomas over him and other comrades from Pimville, and began to think that it was because he was coloured. However, it did not dampen his liking for her, or create bad blood between him and Simon Thomas. He focused on the bigger picture, the political activism and driving the communist ideology.

Throughout his secondary school days, Andrew belonged to the YCL. Later, in 1944, Tambo established a branch of the ANCYL at St Peter’s by bringing together students such as Andrew, Joe Matthews, Nokwe, Fats Ngakane and Henry Makgothi. Joe Matthews served as its branch chairman and subsequently became chairman of the ANCYL in Rosettenville. Andrew became an ordinary member of the ANCYL St Peter’s branch while continuing his active membership of the YCL in the Pimville ‘cell’, as branches of the YCL were called. He opted not to join the Rosettenville branch as he didn’t stay there.

During 1944 Andrew carefully observed the activities of Mpanza and his Sofasonke Party and although he did not like Mpanza’s leadership style (Mpanza often pushed his own interests at the expense of the people he led), he admired his mass-based strategy. By the end of October 1945, Mpanza’s followers on the illegally occupied land called Masakeng had been resettled in new accommodation at Shelters, together with backroom dwellers from other areas. Masakeng had been demolished. Aletta, Andrew’s mother, was one of those who got accommodation at the new Shelters in Orlando West. She had moved there with Letjeta and Emma, his younger brother and twin sister, while he remained with Sekila in Pimville. With the resettlement of Mpanza’s squatters accomplished, Andrew observed and learned from another form of struggle. As the bruised Johannesburg City Council tried to redeem itself, it attempted action against Mpanza, and in January 1946 attempted to have him removed from Johannesburg under Section 5 of the Native Administration Act, a move which the central government supported after some prevarication. The resilient Mpanza stalled the proceedings by taking the matter to court. In addition, the Council warned two Orlando Advisory Board members, Lukas Kumalo and G Xolile, his main accomplices, that they too might be removed from Johannesburg. Observing these events from a distance, Andrew learned from the City Council’s response to the Sofasonke Party that if this leadership could be deported to far-flung rural areas he could suffer the same fate, as he too had rural roots. ‘I decided that to avoid deportation and banishment I would in future claim that I had been born in Prospect township – a defunct settlement in Johannesburg.’ His argument could easily be supported by the fact that Nyoko had briefly stayed at Prospect and at least some records were there to link it with his family. This fabrication, however, would be entrenched in his mind to the extent that he would use it even when there were no longer threats of banishment. It was a lie that he, as its inventor, would later come to believe.

By the time Andrew was in his last year of school, his relationship with Ruth First had shifted to a higher gear. He had been managing various campaigns for the YCL and assisted Ruth with some of her work to support the 1946 mineworkers’ strike which saw the African mineworkers of the Witwatersrand downing tools on 12 August 1946, demanding higher wages (ten shillings a day). The strike was conducted under the auspices of the CPSA-aligned African Mineworkers Union of which JB Marks was president and Dan Tloome secretary. ‘Both men were charismatic and as radical in their approach as the miners they led.’ They reminded him of Mpanza and the members of his Sofasonke party. ‘I’m convinced the miners continued the strike for a week in the face of the most savage police terror because of the quality of their leadership,’ he later said. By the end of the strike, officially 1 248 workers had been wounded and a large number (officially only nine) were killed. ‘Police and army violence eventually smashed the strike,’ recalled Andrew. The resources of the racist state were mobilised, almost on a war footing, against the unarmed workmen. But the miners’ strike had profound repercussions which were to be felt for many years to come. The intense persecution of workers’ organisations which began during the strike, when trade union and political offices and homes of officials were raided throughout the country, continued unabated. The most profound result of the strike, in Andrew’s view, was to be its impact on the political thinking within the ANC and CPSA. ‘Almost immediately the two organisations shifted significantly from a policy of concession to more dynamic and militant forms of struggle … this trend had been gaining momentum for some time.’

By the end of 1946 Andrew had been exposed to several forms of struggles that had shaped his mind. His rural background on the farms of the Orange Free State had exposed him to the plight of farm dwellers and the struggle for land of rural black people who woke up one day to discover that the land they had owned for years was no longer theirs and that the people who had seized it were their masters. His exposure to the poor urban life of black people in Bethlehem and Johannesburg had exposed him to the struggle for service delivery. The miners’ strike had exposed him to labour issues.

Andrew still regarded himself only as an ordinary member of the ANC and the ANCYL. The youth formation he was more actively involved in was the YCL, through which he claimed membership of the CPSA. But the YCL and the CPSA were increasingly facing a barrage of attacks from the state, with far reaching implications. Four years later, when the National Party (NP) had been in power for two years, it became clear that it was irritated by any mention of the word ‘communism’ and the influence the CPSA had over the lives of ordinary black people. The NP also hated the non-racialism that was preached and practised by the CPSA, which was contrary to the legislated ideology of segregation. Thus was passed the Suppression of Communism Act on 26 June 1950 (although they had been planning to ban the CPSA as early as 1948), which became effective on 17 July of the same year. The law formally banned the CPSA and proscribed any party or group subscribing to the ideology of socialism. The minister of justice had the power to issue an order which severely restricted the freedoms of anyone deemed to be a communist. People could be banned from certain places or from talking about politics. The Act was worded in such a way that any person could be barred from running for public office and attending public meetings, restricted from entering a specific portion of the country or even jailed, simply because the minister of justice deemed him to be a communist.

The Act also defined communism and its aims so sweepingly that anyone seeking to change a law could be considered a communist. Since the Act specifically stated that one of the aims of communism was to stir up conflict between the races, it was frequently used legally to gag critics of racial segregation.

To deal with the implications of the Act the CPSA closely monitored the developments around its promulgation. On 5 and 6 May 1950, it convened an emergency meeting of the Central Committee in Cape Town to discuss the Bill declaring the propagation of communism illegal. There was a view within the Party that the Bill earmarked its forcible dissolution and the laying down of various measures that the government aimed to take against members of the CPSA, and the meeting considered how to deal with the government’s threat. Six days before the Act was passed, on 20 June, the CPSA Central Committee meeting in Cape Town also discussed the impending banning of the organisation and various options for the Party, including going underground or dissolving rather than facing a host of breaches of law and subsequent penalties, which would curtail members’ ability to fight the cause. Leaders such as Dr Yusuf Dadoo argued for the Party to go underground. Moses Kotane, JB Marks and Edwin Thabo Mofutsanyana pointed out the dangers of going underground without preparation. After much debate, the meeting declared that the CPSA would dissolve a few days before the Suppression of Communism Act was passed. For Andrew, that was a serious setback. ‘It was a bad decision for the Party to dissolve itself. Some of us wanted it to soldier on to face and deal with any counter-revolutionary action.’

The minister of justice responded quickly to the declaration by appointing a liquidator, a Mr J de Villiers Louw, to wind up the affairs of the Party. Louw made several claims that the CPSA still continued to exist, as it had not been dissolved in terms of its constitution. A court ruling followed, and the dissolution of the CPSA went ahead. When the Act was finally promulgated six days later it was the voice of the ANC that was heard declaring that the day be marked as a day of mourning for the 18 CPSA members killed during the May Day strike on 1 May 1950. In the general strike that followed, Andrew saw with pleasure the manner in which leaders of the South African Indian Congress (SAIC), African People’s Organisation and the dissolved CPSA pledged support for the strike called by the ANC. Even more interesting was to see the strike being organised by a joint coordinating committee of which Walter Sisulu and Ahmed Cachalia of the SAIC were joint secretaries. The strike reverberated through the cities of Durban and Cape Town. Andrew was encouraged by this response – Africans and Indians were coming together to fight an unjust system. Importantly, the ANC and the SAIC were rallying behind the CPSA. ‘This would be significant in the struggle for the total emancipation of the majority.’

The urge to be actively involved in the liberation struggle became stronger and louder. He had his own view on how he could assist the struggle and was certain that the promulgation of the Suppression of Communism Act in 1950 and the discontinuation of the CPSA would not dampen his spirit. If anything, it may have pushed him closer to the ANC – and it appears to have done the same to many of his peers in the CPSA and YCL. Alfred Nziba, a young man whom Andrew had known very well, was one of the members of the YCL to have actively drifted into the ANC mainly because of the discontinuation of the CPSA, and would influence Andrew to lean towards the ANC as well. (A Fort Hare dropout, Nziba was said to have spent eight years at the university without completing a degree and to have gone around boasting that he may not have gained any degree but he had managed to obtain 16 courses, enough to grant him a degree and few subjects for a second one – he apparently changed from one degree to another to avoid the rule that could have disqualified him from proceeding with his studies on campus.)

At the beginning of 1951, a few months after the dissolution of the CPSA, Nziba called a meeting of some selected young people at Phomolong, in the house belonging to the family of Jacob Matshaneng. Also present was another influential young man, George Mhlakaza from Orlando East. Jacob Motshaneng was a rather unusual character in Andrew’s opinion. He lived with his parents and sister and, as the only son in the family, was regarded as a ‘cheeseboy’ or ‘mother’s boy’, which is perhaps confirmed by the fact that he did not marry until his mother had passed away, fearing that a wife would compete with her for space (nor did being Andrew’s best man at his later wedding pump up the urge in him to get married). It was Jacob who excitedly told Andrew about the meeting, at which Nziba did all the talking and everyone else just listened. His speech was about the ANCYL, its importance and meaning to the country’s youth and its role in broader society; and the need for them to join the organisation as active members and not merely as part of the crowd. He described it as the grooming ground for future leaders of the ANC. That meeting persuaded Andrew to be actively involved in the ANCYL – but it was an extra commitment, and he was still juggling his political with his married life, having married a few months earlier.

From the beginning of the 1950s, Andrew had observed that the dissolution of the CPSA and its forced hibernation had propelled the ANC into the leadership of the struggle. ‘Before these developments, the CPSA had been more influential and more prominent in the workers’ struggles than the ANC,’ he said. ‘The miners’ strike in the 1940s was, perhaps, a clear testimony to this.’ Therefore, in Andrew’s opinion, the harassment of the CPSA by the government was a catalyst for the coming together of the CPSA and the ANC, albeit with some resistance from prominent members of the ANC. Both organisations had members in each others’ structures but it was not going to be plain sailing, especially in the initial stages, as Andrew would later learn. The growth of the ANC, in particular, and its attraction of people from all walks of life and races, were to bring far-reaching implications for the ANC as an organisation and for its campaigns. The Defiance Campaign of 1952 and the Congress of the People gathering in Kliptown in 1955, as well as the infamous treason trial of the late 1950s, were to characterise the manner in which South Africa was going to be liberated.

The steady dominance of the ANC in black people’s struggles was beginning to have unintended consequences. In the Johannesburg area, Andrew observed some signs of Africanist ideology emerging among the ranks of the ANC, through the Bantu National Congress under Peter Makhene which emerged as early as 1953. Makhene was supported by James Maseko, a member of the CPSA – an indication that the recalcitrant faction included members from both ANC and CPSA ranks. Andrew knew both men very well as he had worked with them in the CPSA. He regarded them as hecklers, and dismissed their followers as just like them (the reason he didn’t take them seriously was their approach to political mobilisation – an attack on the ANC rather than bringing something new into the political arena). However, insignificant as the organisation may have appeared in Andrew’s mind, it represented an ideology that would have an impact in struggle politics later on. The Bantu National Congress was soon followed by another organisation, the national-minded Block. Its public face was Josiah Madzunya and its activities were along the lines of distributing leaflets with messages advocating the Africanist agenda and denouncing the increasing movement of whites into the ANC. Andrew Mlangeni’s dismissal of these competing organisations speaks not only to his loyalty but also to his political common sense.