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Two Sides of the Story Day 1 What a bizarre sense of relief! No more being on the run, no more watching the rear view mirror, no more moving house every third or fourth day! I look around to swallow my environment. I
do so meticulously, as if I'm presenting an inventory to an arrogant
official: Faint light from the centre of the ceiling, covered with chequered wire. "Fokken manjiesligte" a fellow prisoner had shouted a few days ago probably as he too did his inventory on arrival. Small barred openings for windows, covered on either side with dust-veneered wire on either side of the bars blocking any bit of pale winter sun. I'll sit here on the cement block alongside the wall. At least I'm out of view from the 24-hour a day guard. And it's so cold. Just my luck to be detained this time of the year. And the toilet, ja ne, deliberately dehumanizing us prisoners. Imagine the toilet opposite the barred doorway, and that bloody guard sitting there smirking at me all the time because I'm an 'artickel neen-en-twintig'... Are you safe, my love? Did they arrest you later? 18 May 1987 Dear Diary Thanks Dear Diary for the solace you give
me Day 10 Gosh, I never thought this would happen to me. Even though we prepared ourselves for it. I remember that Silvermines picnic cum 'Know Your Rights Workshop'. Even the UDF wasn't allowed to meet then; how our Area Committee came up with then idea of going to restaurant-meetings, an expensive undertaking. You really had to order something to eat after five cups of coffee and three hours later. I remember how remote all the issues seemed
at the 'Know Your Rights Workshop'. We didn't actually take it too
seriously, but well, just in case: Not bad, Sandra, it has been ten days now. Listen to the questions, analyze them. Work out what they pretend to know. That's an old strategy. So glad our other comrades informed us about this when they got out. Make certain admissions to obvious things only. Pretend you're co-operating if the torture becomes too unbearable. Ah exercise time. Not anyone can boast a private exercise yard with wired mesh on top! 12 June 1987 Dear Diary For the third successive morning I parked
outside Loop Street Security Headquarters from 6 to 8am and no sign
of her. According to Joann's sister, she's being brought here for
interrogation. Oh, just to see her and know that she's well. I should
get a hold As for those sisters of hers. "You really should look after your hair. You're so lucky, you've got the straightest hair out of all of us. But you don't even blow-dry it. And no make-up. If you wore make-up you could pass for white." And here I am. Her lover for ten years, longer than her marriage lasted—unnoticed, unacknowledged, unsupported. Well, at least this anger gives me strength. How are you, my sweets? Keep strong and well, my love. Goodnight, pumpkin Day 30 I'm just another statistic. What is it now?
35 women in Section 29? Is there speculation about where I'm being
held? Do they talk about me? Do you miss me, sweets? Maybe I'm mentioned
at support group meetings or at a political rally focusing on women
political detainees? It's quite ironic, my sitting here. How often
have I made Dear God, where is she? Is she well? Or detained? Why did Old Le Fleur say that I should make my sister power of attorney and not Madge, he knows how close we were. Where is she Lord? Please God, keep her safe from these brutes. The Lord's my Shepherd, I shall not want...
Tho' I walk in the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no
ill. I shall fear no ill...I shall fear no ill. Is this your way
of punishing me? You, God of Love I must get out of here. I must.
I cannot stand it. I can't breathe, Day 40 Let's reschedule the roster for the day. After exercising there's Poetry Time. I'm quite impressed with myself. Doing all that in my head. Back to the roster: then I'll wash my clothes. And then I'II hang my clothes on top of the bed frame instead of on the bars of the door. Let's see what that old Jantjies has to say when I obscure her view of me on the fucking toilet! t 1 August 1987 Dear Diary Today I feel even more depressed. I've just come from a Church Service for the families of detainees—note FAMILIES! I feel empty with humiliation and pain. Imagine, I was questioned by her lawyer why I was lighting the candle for her. My eyes welled up with tears. He knew about my relationship with her. Fortunately Jenny overheard this and told me to go ahead. Still, lighting the candle afterwards meant nothing to me after that. I need to take a good look at myself. Why can't I operate without her? Maybe this is a blessing in disguise: I have to fend for myself. Does it mean that I became too dependent on her, despite our alternative relationship? I don't even know where to pay the car. I have to administer business and I'm at a complete loss. Have I allowed myself to become a 'passive wife'? I who started the youth club, the teenage magazine, the study aid club, co-ordinator of the women's groups... Oh, you'd hate me sweetie, but your family's so bloody selfish, they boss over your things. We had a joint banking account and you make your sister power of attorney! Fuck you too... Oh, what the hell. I'm too depressed to write any longer. I must be getting hooked on these sleeping pills. Night Now Day 60
I'm sure there were 5 verses. One with other couples, then the heroines, Dora Timana, Dorothy Zihlangu...Then the women in prison, Mama Mfacu... If I could be as brave as them. But they were under Section 3. Section 29's worse! Stop feeling sorry for yourself...now don't start all that tjanking again! 28 August 1987 Dear Diary I haven't written to you for a long time.
That's because I'm sorting myself out and actually living. I have
moved house and am sharing with a wonderfully kind woman who listens
to me while I rave about my life with Sandra. Sandra, where are
you? Some say you're being kept at Ravensmead. Others say you are
going to be part of a big treason trial. Have you given in to your
interrogators? Sandra, have strength, my sweets! I'll support you
whatever you do. Don't be too hard on yourself. Remember you are
human and fallible, even though you like setting high standards
for yourself. But then again, not only for yourself. For others
too, especially me. And I couldn't always reach your standards.
I remember how intolerant you sometimes were of me. You have-been-overseas-types
are all the same. You get impatient with me if I don't understand
something. We all haven't had the opportunity to study overseas,
like you bourgeois Fairways coloureds. My word. Lil's brought me
Milo and wonderfully fresh- Until next time, my sweet! Day 93 Keys, again! Medication time! I'm getting quite good at pretending to swallow the Voltaren. That makes 30 in my secret hiding place. I'd better find another place, they nearly were discovered during last time's search. I definitely need them in case. . .I can't stand it much longer. All I want is to get out of here. But I can't betray my comrades, there's too much at stake. They already got half of the cell before I was detained and the work must go on! I hear someone coming. Who's that? No, it can't be you Oupa, you're Dead. Oupa you're dead! I'm seeing things . . . Madge, is that you? Come let's go for a walk on Camps Bay beach. You know how I love walking these . . . Mary, Mother of God, Please intercede on my behalf . . .Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with you . . . 30 August 1987 Dear Diary Lil and I are going to a gay club tonight again. It was wonderful dancing with her. Gone were all my problems. No state of emergency, no being on the run, no being undermined, unacknowledged, no Sandra in detention. No Sandra . . .just warm wonderful feelings. She's a friend in a million. I feel so guilty, in fact I can't even write it down! Or shouldn't in case it falls into the wrong hands. I feel whole again. I haven't felt like this in years. She's really good for my ego and she's in love with me. Lil respects me. Yes, Sandra, we've had many wonderful years but they haven't all been roses. I miss you sweetie. I'm lonely here but I suppose you're worse off inside there. Are you cold? You were always such a cold person. Love you Night-ti-night 5 September 1987 I feel shit guilty. Golly I had such a WONDERFUL time with Lil, a caring, gentle, wonderful woman! And to think I'm in love. What must I do? Sandra, how long are you going to be inside there? The lawyers have confirmed that a 7th accused will join the trial. They're convinced it's going to be you. Do you know that it'll be years before you'll get out? Be strong, woman, be brave. . . Your family has managed to track me down, so I can do them some favours naturally. They're even better than the security police, finding me out at my new hideout. Thank goodness for Lil. But why am I feeling so guilty? I must learn to consider myself for a change. By the time I get around to considering my needs, I don't have any energy left. Firstly, it's the struggle, then Sandra, then my family, then Sandra's, then the school kids, the area committee, the women's groups, Mama M, Mama H, and so on, and so on . . .What about me, ME, ME, ME! Night now Day 100 Sweetheart, I am going to make love to you now. Onto my cement block in the corner, where inquisitive eyes can't see me. I wonder what she thinks I'm going to do when I fetch my pillow. Ag, they can imprison my body but not my ideas, they can rob me of my freedom, but they cannot take away the pleasure that my body can give me. Come into my arms, my love. Let me fondle you and hold you. Gertrude Fester has worked in grassroots women's organizations most of her life and is a founder member of WEAVE. Her dream is to take herself seriously as a writer, poet, and performer. |
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