The Journey of My Life

By Peter Thwallies

The Journey of My Life is a story about ancestral spiritshow they can drive you, your life, and your path to your future. A lot of people say that ancestral spirits are not real, but in Africa, if you dont follow what your forebears tell you, you might ruin your life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Feb 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781482877373

Book preview

Chapter 1

Getting this opportunity of writing exams once again was something I was going to cherish. I couldn’t wait to see myself in the exam room, looking straight in the eyes of those fellow students who came solely to do something that could assist when they want to try and improve their lifestyles and those of their immediate families. After all, education was key to my success in life. I would stop at nothing to further my studies no matter the circumstances. This brain I possessed was bestowed on me by both God. Even Bert and his foreman had failed before. As they always say in the academic arena, first paper is vital in any exam, as it either breaks or motivates you going forward in your exam. So I knew the importance of writing this paper to the best of my abilities. Arriving early was the first strategy towards achieving this feat. That tells much of a story of somebody who couldn’t wait to sit for this exam. I began to take wild imaginations, seeing me working in one of the embassies in one of the big cities in the world, perhaps it could be Washington DC, London, Paris, Moscow, Harare, Nairobi, Ankara, Bonn/Berlin, Cairo, Damascus, or even Lagos. Or perhaps working in my favourite department, The Department of Foreign Affairs. All of these imaginations gave me an oomph, motivation and determination to leave no stone unturned to see to it that I pass my modules with flying colours.

We were then allowed in the exam room. Looking at the complexion of the students, I could see how my people took a jaundiced view of education. This was clearly reflected by the number of black students that came to write here today. The majority of students were whites, Coloureds and Indians. In my observation I could also note that their ages ranged from 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and above, that for me showed how they valued education. In the case of black Africans, you could only see those in their early 20s and 30s. I often heard people from my race who were much younger than me talking about being old enough to return to school, yet they don’t know when they are going to die.

Indeed we were allowed in the exam room. I was surprised by the speed with which I finished writing from the time that I was struggling to write. To start with, I was used to finishing when most of the students had long been finished. Even when I was still in high school it used to be like that, sometimes teachers would just confiscate the script because I could not finish in the stipulated time, but I could be slow in writing, yet I was a star in the class, than most of those who were famous for finishing early. But as to why I finished so early this day was mystery that caught me by surprise. I had to check and re-check any mistakes I could have made, it was spotless. When many people started to get out one by one, I then joined them as this was the moment I have been waiting for. I went out with two guys, and as we were going like that, we started chatting about the exam, how we wrote it, what challenges did we experience and so on. Later I then said:

You know, sometimes these examininers are unfair. They are quick to give us scope during the year, but when it comes to fulfilling their promise, it’s a different ball game all together. In fact I just don’t know why can’t they just leave us to read on our own than to give us misleading scope.

I saw those guys looking at each other, and then looked at me. Something was fishing about the guys’ facial expressions. Their surprised faces were not doing any good for my understanding.

Well, my brother, I don’t get you, what do you mean…?

Asked one of the guys.

His friend added. Ja no let him explain what he means by that.

Well, no, I mean…isn’t it that during the course of the year …didn’t they send you letters of chapters that we need to look into in preparation for this exam? Or perhaps you didn’t receive them?

The guys hasted again, until the first one replied.

Oh yes we did, but then we are surprised when you say the exam didn’t come as the letters highlighted.

On hearing the words, I thought the guy was wasting my time, I then put my hand inside my favourite ugly green jersey’s pocket, and my hand came out with the paper to show the guys what I was really talking about.

Before I could even show them the actual paper, it was me who spotted something wrong about the paper itself. It was a second level paper as opposed to first level paper that I was supposed to be writing. I could see the mostly suppressed faces of the guys after what they saw. To look into their eyes was to add salt on the already painful wound I was feeling.

My brother, this is too big for us. If I can tell you how we can assist you in this issue, I will be trying to lie to you. What you can just do right now as we are standing here is to go back to the authorities, they are still there, and tell them what you have come across, perhaps they are the ones better equipped to deal with this issue. There is nothing to argue about here. Everything here is crystal clear that this is beyond anyone’s understandanding.

To heed the guy’s opinion, I then wasted no time and went back to the exam room. There was a long invigilators’ queue and I just went straight to one friendly-looking old white woman who was standing alone who was also the chief invigilator, still holding a microphone she was using to give instruction to both students and invigilators.

On learning of my case, she became speechless.

Oh my goodness! What’s this? Firstly let me accept that yes it’s our fault to give you the wrong script for the second year levels students, there I admit, but again, you are guilty too, for sitting with a wrong paper for three hours without realising the mistake. Why didn’t you detect it earlier on? Why did you remain with this wrong paper for almost three hours and having to come and tell us now…eish in fact this is not the right time to blame each other, it won’t get us anywhere, what we must do now is to see how we can resolve this issue. But look, you have seated here with this wrong paper for three hours, your paper is also three hours, even if they say you have got that energy, can you afford to sit for six hours and write? Where do you get that energy?

There is no use for me to refuse to write because of fatique or exhaustion, because to start with, you yourselves cannot give me the paper to come and write tomorrow, or am I wrong?

So you want to write?

Could you just give me the question paper, madam, the time is not waiting for me, please!

She then gave me the relevant question paper from the extras that were on the table. She then went to take the one I wrote where the scripts had already been put together. When she came back I didn’t even notice she had arrived, because I had put my forehead on the table and could hardly hear anything anymore. When she arrived there she just banged on the table with the back of her hand to alert me of her arrival. I then woke up. She then showed me the script.

Is this your script, Sir?

Yes it is, but then, there is a mistake here, the student number is not mine.

The student number is not yours? What do you mean by that, Sir? What about the handwritten, is it not yours too?

No, well, yes the script and the handwritten are all mine, only the student number is not.

The old lady just threw those papers and accompanying stuff on the table, and then laughed out loud unbelievably, until all her intestines could come out, and I even unintentionally joined her and laughed to that madness.

Sir, just tell me here, what happened to you these last two weeks or so?

Hmm well, not that I remember.

Well, then know this, the coming two weeks will be hard for you, beware of this. Something terrible is likely going to happen to you. Look here, don’t look at me and say, this is a white woman, I’m not just a white woman, I’m actually an elderly white woman. Even the work that I’m doing, I have been doing this for quite a long time. It’s long that we have been helping people or students with various problems. But their problems are chalk and cheese to this one of yours. In most cases the problems that students come across are for instance, where students do not understand the rows they are supposed to sit, whether they are eligible to register for a particular number of modules etc, and then we help them. But this one of yours is unique, you are not like them, you understand very much, this one is bigger than you. I mean even my colleagues there; this matter has taken them by surprise. The problem of student number was detected by us when we were together there, but look, I did not come here and inform you about it, you yourself detected it instantly that the handwritten is yours but the student number is not, so you can see that this is unusual. So my advice to you, beware, keep your eyes open.

From there I got onto the exam and started writing. All along when we were busy trying to resolve my problem, other new second year students were busy on their duty writing. I didn’t even finish as I was extremely exhausted.

The start of our exams coincided with the salary negotiations at my workplace. So from the exam, the following day we were sitting behind our factory buildings, our usual place, Building C to deliberate on the salary negotiation process. Our foreman, Mbengwa was at it again, making all endevours to try to convince us to think otherwise regarding the issue.

No gents, please, stop doing that. An increase at this point in time is never good for our firm. It might have some negative repercursions for us guys. Let us refrain from demanding that increase guys, please… Mbengwa told us.

What are you talking about Mbengwa, elaborate? I charged.

I mean, Savimbi, by demanding things such as increases. It will result in unnecessary outcomes such as retrenchments and so on, is this what you all want guys? We are currently in a difficult economic situation, it is not an opportune moment my comrades to arrest a situation such as this. Of course yes increase is necessary, but not this time. Think twice about this.

if not now, when, Mbengwa, when do you think it’s the right time to strike? I asked.

I’m not sure but definitely not this time around.

Mbengwa, we are the ones here who make production, hence the demand for increment. Mbengwa, please just do us a favour, just deliver our grievances to our boss, he will respond for himself.

Alvin, don’t betray these workers, if you have something to fall back on, please understand that here we come from different families, we are not like you. Colleagues don’t listen to this man, he will make you lose your jobs, and obviously your beautiful wives are going to divorce you. This boss of ours has no money guys, so to demand an increment will cripple him. So Alvin, stop influencing these people, they have families to look after.

I interrupted:

Mbengwa, don’t speak for our boss, he will speak for himself. Have you ever seen his bank account when you say he has got no money? Mbengwa, you know what, we don’t demand that money from you, you don’t have a firm Mbengwa, so avoid speaking as if you have one, we don’t even want to argue with you about something that it’s not yours, you are just a mere worker just like us, so stop behaving as if you are him.

Alvin…

I interrupted him:

Mbengwa, your job is to take our message to our boss, instead of dictating to us what we must and must not do, you are our messenger, you go to him and give him our message, when you come back with his response, we will then analyse it thoroughly, and then when we are still not satisfied with certain aspects here and there, we will again send you back to him to rectify it and so on, until he meets all our demands, that’s your job, that’s what you are paid for.

Mbengwa took a deep breath, and then said: Fine, be stubborn as you are, but let me make it crystal clear to you, I will never deliver your insubordinate message, not in a million years’ time, so you will forgive me for that. You have changed guys, I don’t know you like this, but you will pay heavily for this, I’m telling you.

But guys just tell me here, why in the first place did you choose this man as your induna guys?

Another senior colleague named Mponyo said:

It was because he was the first to know how to fix the broken machines here at the firm, that is why we ended up recommending him to the position.

Ooooh, now I see, it means in actual fact he is not our induna, he is in fact the machine induna, or what guys?

They all went on laughter to that belittling joke.

Because Mbengwa declined to submit our grievances to our boss, we then resolved to choose one amongst us, Sian, to go and register our dispute to our boss.

When Bert saw Sian entering at his office, he became surprised and disgusted. His office was notoriously not open to any employee. Mr Van Tonder stood up to intimidate him, his usual antics.

What do you want in my office, have you finished your job, he, answer me maan?

Sian extended his hand to give him the letter we gave him, but Bert ignored that and just looked straight into his eyes.

What’s that, I said what do you want in my office?

You-you are wante…

Heey fuck of maan who wants me?

Workers Sir.

What workers? Who? Tell me who wants me don’t say workers what are you talking about when you say workers/? Don’t they have names?

Sian did not know what to say.

Bert then diligently got out of the office fuming, and came straight to where we were holding a meeting outside our factory building C.

Forcefully:

What’s wrong what’s going on here?

Baas we-we want increase Baas…

What? For what? Nonsense, come this side my boy!

He then pulled Sian and pushed him aside

"Who else wants to follow him? Let him come this side, today I want to show you who am I."

Most workers were shivering. No single worker wanted to follow Sian in afraid of facing the very same ruthless boot that had already kicked him. I had seen this happening for quite a long time now. Many of my colleagues have been booted out through similar method and for many years it has worked wonders for our boss. Many of those workers who faced that type of fate have left the firm empty-handed, because if Bert had dismissed you immediately after you got your salary, the two of you did not owe each other anything, that’s how he operated. I had vowed to myself that enough was enough.

With this behaviour, our boss wanted to teach us a lesson we would never forget for as long we were still employed by him.

All of us just stemmed there, with no one willing to feel the magnitude of our boss’s boot that had already struck one of our own. I looked at my friend, who was busy struggling to lick the wounds from our boss’s boot. And I looked at the fear that was befalling my colleagues. this was our weakness as workers, which in a way had continued to cost us so much before, and I had wanted to change that. For so long our boss had used this strategy to exploit his employees. Many workers had been dismissed because of minor incidences, and workers in general relied on the mercy of our boss for their survival and did not see themselves doing anything to defend themselves. This worked well for our boss over the years. However this had to come to an abrupt end, I vowed. There was absolutely no room for such behaviour that I was going to tolerate at the firm, I vowed to myself that if my boss continued with this tendency we were going to be sowrn enemies from then going forward.

"Bafowethu, asambeni sonke, uzosala lapho simo sika izindlebe."

Guys, let’s all go there; whoever remains here we cut off his ears, I charged.

What do you say there, fuck ooof maaan! charged our boss.

Some of the senior workers were whispering and grumbling, blaming me secretly for what I was sowing at the firm.

Ja, you know what, you are all fired, just take your fuckin everything and disperse from my firm, I don’t want to see you with my eyes at this firm again. You don’t want to work, there are plenty of people out there who are willing to work, who would be glad to fill your positions right away.

Bert then quickly went to the office and other workers from other departments were busy complaining to themselves, putting their blames squarely at me for the dismissal of their colleagues. I could hear some of their accusations across the firm, although they could not do so at my face. Although Bert understood the magnanimity of the exercise, bearing in mind the legal challenges that could result from labour unions; he felt it was worth taking a risk.

The following day in the afternoon when all workers who were residing outside the firm have already gone home, and those staying in hostels had already gone to their rooms, Mbengwa sneaked to Bert’s office.

Mbengwa, you in my office at this time, what’s wrong?

Baas, there is a matter I want to share with you. Surely you need to do something about it, or else this will automatically lead to the brink of this firm’s collapse…

"Mbengwa, stop beating the bush and put flesh on the bare bone my seun, I have no time for the riddles you are coming up with to me, I have a work to do in filling the positions of those left by the workers I fired."

It appeared that what was agreed upon in that meeting was to nip the new foreign tendency at the firm in the bud before it could hatch and spread across the entire seven sections of the firm.

Bert was so angry that after that argument he immediately went straight into the Bavaria Restaurant to dine as he tried to calm down. He was sure that the food there was superb and would work wonders for him, perhaps make him forget about the row he had with us.

When he entered there he was welcomed by a poor Jewish tall guy named Rizby, who was still new to the restaurant. Bert wanted to buy something that would sooth his mind as he was still trying to come to terms with the recent behaviour his employees have just showed to him. He then went on to sit on an empty chair next to the wall, but before he could even sit, he just felt a hand holding him behind. As a bad dresser of note, he was just wearing his usual stuff, khakhi short pants and shirt, boots and cowboy hat that as employees we had come to know him with. That picture looked badly in the eyes of the new waiter, so before Bert could sit down, Rizby could n’t wait for too long:

Eh Sir what do you want here… can we help you?

Bert turned aside to look at him: What do I want here? What do you mean?

I mean what do you do here?

What do others do here? What’s your problem in fact?

No I mean just look at this place, not everyone can just come here as he pleases ok! This place is not for people such as you baba…! It is a reserved restaurant for the elites.

Elites? Who are those elites?

This was a place where Bert and his colleagues usually dined and mapped out how they could decrease losses and increase profits. It was not because he owned part of the restaurant that made it the restaurant of his choice. The food was delicious, which made it their preferred place of dining. Bert looked at him and faced him, folding his arms, now irritated:

Oh, you don’t want people like me here, because it is a reserved place for elite!

He looked at him from downwards right upwards here in this building, he then started looking around the building, corner by corner, but he could see he was making the guy impatient with his prolonged tactics.

Ok, is it the policy of this place, for certain type of people to be allowed here, while others are barred, is it the policy? Says who?

Says me…

Rizby then held him and tried to gently push him outside, and then Bert became furious and started to shout at him.

Rizby was getting more impatient to find himself having to argue with someone whom according to him was not suitable for that place.

You know you are so ahead of youself. Do you really know how much this building makes a month? Do you know how much this building pays each month?

He then laughed to himself in disbelief, holding hios waist, even shaking his head.

Alright, since you seem not to know me, let me tell you, I own this building, I’m the shareholder of this place, where did they find you he? I mean you have just been hired a week ago or so, you haven’t even got your salary yet, but already you are treating clients badly! If all these people here can sulk and decide to leave here, will you buy all of this food here? I’m asking? You know, you have ruined my already ruined day; do you know I can make you dismissed?

At that time, the guy was begging like he was begging to go to heaven.

Please, please sir I’m so sorry don’t do that please I’m begging you…

You know what boy, you don’t know me, I’m calling your manager right away to come and sort you out, I’m going to buy him with twenty thousand rand cash right now to fire you with immediate effect…

He talked to Rizby busy dialling numbers to call Rizby’s manager, whereas Rizby was making a frantic move to prevent him from doing so. To make matters worse, Rizby held Bert on the shoulder to pull him back so they face each other, and Bert became untouchable. When the manager came he found the two still embroiled in each other. The manager would not allow Rizby’s behaviour unchallenged, as such Bert’s wish had to be fulfilled.

He spoke getting out of the office, leaving Mbengwa with no idea of where he was going. Most of Bert’s comments with or about his employees had racial undertones, as he often saw them as inferior and thought he could do whatever he liked about them as he pleased.

It appeared that what Mbengwa had fed him with in the office was something that would continue to haunt him for some time to come.

Bert was sitting on the couch thinking about me, while his two children, Herman and Veronika, aged 13 an 14 were busy playing in the other room. Bert was just holding his cheek with his back of his folded hand when his domestic worker, Snowie brought food. Snowie was also afraid of him the way he was as she thought perhaps it’s her fault whatever was in his mind.

Here is the food, Baas!

Oh, thank you, Snowie. He then took that tray and started eating without looking at Snowie.

"What is matter, Baas?’

What do you, Snowie?

No, Baas, I know you, I can sense when there is a problem, so what is it?

She smiled at him. That smile brought life to him, as usual, and he was able to reciprocate that. He was often stunned by how the lady got the best out of him. Snowie would want him angry up to the forehead but she would calm him down, even where his wife had failed. His wife had realised this a long time ago and had come to use Snowie as the messenger whenever things had gone out of hand as she realised what Snowie had about him she herself did not have. Snowie was a no nonsense type of a woman, both Bert and Marike knew that for sure. They knew when it came to fairness she didn’t mind her race, and she had demonstrated that for many years that they have stayed together. Their children called her mama and they were closed to her more than even their mothers. She raised them in an African way and they loved it so much.

Bert was known to be obsessed with black women. Before he came to Johannesburg he was working in the farms around Mooketsi. Word had it that the character most people, especially his workers came to know of him was highly different to the one his black women knew back in the Transvaal area of the country. Most of his employees knew him as a monster, whereas his black mistresses knew him as a loving and caring lover. But above all, it was said that all those women whom he had children with were well-taken off. His obsession with black women drove his wife mad, where she had been on several occasions been admitted to hospital because of depression. There was a secret that he had never knew, that the reason she persuaded him to buy the current firm in Germiston when the opportunity availed itself at the time was because she understood he would be away from those black farm women for good.

After Snowie had gone, his wife arrived and entered from another room and held her waist when she reached there.

Berty dear, what’s wrong?

You know what Marike, there is a rebel at my firm that had turned the firm into something I don’t know anymore.

He then hit the table with his fist and then left at once, leaving Marike perplexed.

Going home to our Pim Vil hostel with my friend, Louis-Botha, we took our usual road that led to Germiston station. While on our way home, I have been boring my friend, Louis-Botha with my defeaning silence, as I kept on thinking about the trouble I had caused for my fellow workers. I was so stressed that even when I arrived at the town I didn’t feel it.

I was also far in my mind, thinking about the trouble I have caused to my colleagues, and the consequent of that. I knew that at home I was still going to account to my wife, Ernie, for allowing my ego distract me from what she has always warned against each time we were discussing about our relationship as workers with our boss. If I failed to heed to that advice, that subsequently led to our dismal as workers that alone would translate to disregarding her advices all along and as the woman of the house, surely she was not going to like this. Ernie had just visited me during this winter holidays as she usually did when their school calendar was in recess. But one thing was certain in all of this, that she knew I would never get tired until I realised my dream of liberating my fellow workers from the shackles that our boss had been subjecting us to over these years. My loyalty to him was the one thing that had over the years stood between me and my boss total fell-out. It was unfortunate then that I was expelled long before I could even realise that dream. But that I have marginalised her as my wife was not going to end well.

We arrived early in town and the usual train that we normally used was still late by an hour, something that was becoming a norm these days owing to cable theft that went unabated. This led us to deciding to go and make window shopping around the different shops there just to push time. As we were walking on the pavement of the buildings of different shops there approaching Brenda Fassie Square, suddenly I saw two gentlemen, one white and the other an African smartly dressed in a pink brentwood, leather jacket and a leather cap, standing together against the wall of some of those buildings. Immediately when they took notice of me, everything just changed, and the white guy became untouchable, as he instantly became suspicious and nervous at the same time. He abandoned whatever thought or decision he had had earlier. Consequently, he started looking in different directions where he could just find a way out of this looming madness unscathed. He then began moving away from the scene to rescue himself. That’s when Louis-Botha too emerged, further increasing the suspicion the prospective buyer already had. When the disgruntled seller started following the prospective customer and even making efforts to call him, trying anxiously to dispel any fears the customer seemed to have been harbouring, that’s when he was making matters worse. The white guy closed his ears and accelerated his footsteps, often looking back slightly to find out if he was being followed or not. As he walked like that hurriedly, he could feel as if his ears were standing up like those of a rabbit, waiting for any sound of footsteps next to him, where he wouldnt waste any time’, but would just run like a child who is running away from a parent carrying a sjambock. You could see him even when he walked, that although he was not running, if only something, be it a lizard or bird could be heard next to him, he wouldn’t care, he would just run away like nobody’s business. For him to walk hurriedly like that as opposed to running literally was only because he didn’t want to cause any scene from those people around who were up and about doing their different stuff.

I looked at the black guy, standing and holding his waist with both hands, looking at that white guy in despair. In his eyes I saw red that meant danger. I could see his face written disappointment with bold letters, and he turned to look at me. It wasn’t difficult for one to predict the words that could come out of the mouth of the man.

His fat pigeon was about to get into the trap, his job was now simple, to worry about how he was going to divide the different parts of the bird, that he was going to eat the chest, when, when was he then going to eat the wings, what about others? He swiftly jumped over to me with extreme anger, and then started shouting at me in Zulu, often intimidating me with his body parts such as hands and chest as though he could hit me. In seeing that danger, Louis-Botha ran away like a whirlwind without even looking back. After I realised what was to come, I resolved to leave the scene to avoid imminent concussion that looked certain. So I left everything that I was doing, and slowly moved away from the scene. As I was leaving the scene, the guy came from behind and pulled a heavy shot straight on my face, then blood started to spill from my nostrils, and consequently I fell down simultaneously. I just hated to see my blood coming out of my nostrils. Waking up I was the angriest man on the planet. To realize that now the war has just begun, that’s when I could see that in actual fact here I was dealing with the number one coward you could ever meet. He couldn’t stand my anger, and he became trembling as though he was feeling the cold Cape Town weather. Later, he then took out a three centimetre knife from nowhere, and tried to stab me. But you would laugh the way he was trying to stab me. He wouldn’t come next to me but would just try to stab me being metres away from me, while I kept on ducking and diving, and later I got the opportunity to grab him and pulled a heavy fist, beating him where it mattered most, forcing him to fall down like an old tree, that’s when from different directions four men emerged holding knives in their different brands and sizes. They then ganged against me, all of them wielding their knives. At that time women were screaming aloud, with their hands on their heads, in anticipation of seeing a human intestines splashed in front of their eyes. The only involvement they could add was to plead with me to just run away because despite my stubborn I was not going to defeat those men in their number compared to myself, but how was I going to heed their call when the men were holding me and ready to send me to the dead?

For the whole week, Bert had been monitoring the work of those new workers, but he came to realize later that he was not doing his job properly. That’s when he realized the damage the guys had created. All those days some of the old workers who were booted out kept on coming at the premises of the firm, chanting slogans that were directed at the new ones, and in so doing trying to strike fear in the minds of those that have just been employed in order to intimidate the new ones for taking their jobs, which was so sad for the new ones, who becoming employed for some after starving for so long was something to be celebrated. Amongst those expelled, I was conspicuously absent. The firm suffered a severe loss by expelling a quarter of mostly experienced and skilful workers and replacing them with entirely new and inexperienced ones. The sad reality of which was only informed by emotions rather than on productivity or otherwise. The damage coming from this exercise could be seen from the damaged cups that were all over the place, which were to be loaded in truck and dumped at a usual dumping site.

My injury meant Ernie would no longer leave for hme at the prescribed time that schools were opening in a week’s time so that she could monitor my progress, even when I insisted she may leave since I didn’t want to give my colleagues and my boss a false believe or impression about myself.

Ernie had on numerous occasions advised me to rather change my attitude towards my boss in general, and began to treat everything at work with a certain degree of caution instead of trying to make myself the boss, however, I had continued to be resistant to this because I believed Ernie only did so since she was not part and parcel of the trouble that we found ourselves in as workers. So when I was booted out like this it became so sad for this modest woman. Nevertheless she was mindful of the issue at stake, to remind me of what she used to advise me about was not going to contribute positively to the harmonious relationship we had together. Instead, it would threaten our relationship’s stability and breed hostility between the two of us.

A week later, I came with a doctor’s letter and gave it to my boss. You could see how discomfort he felt to see me when he took that letter as if he didn’t want to. I just ignored him and went back to my work. At the time he received that letter he kept himself busy with this and that there in the office, as if I was just pestering him by giving him that letter as there were important issues that he was busy with, but immediately when I went out, he then went to the letter and gave it a thorough look. I then came to note that our boss had earlier instructed mbengwa to call a workers’indaba with immediate effect, where he showed his willingness to heed the striking workers’demand for increase. in that indaba he also explained to workers about the damage which the new workers had created because of their inexperience, and had subsequently resolved to expel them without compensation. in the said indaba, mr van tonder outlined his programme from then going forward. His unilateral resolution tabled at the indaba was that from then onwards he was going to put a 60c increase every six months. Furthermore, a coordinating committee of three members was established that would monitor the progress of this initiative. It also came to my attention that every worker had to come with his or her friend by hand, so as to ensure that only preferred workers were reinstated. From there Mr Van Tonder went into the office with Mbengwa, where he didn’t mince his words, when he talked about me, that although he finally retracted on his initial decision to expel the striking employees, the main culprit had to be brought to the mighty book of the sinners. Meetings such as these further clipped Mbengwa of his unreserved powers to fully represent us as workers. He was now quickly becoming toothless whom workers would no longer trust and rely on to fight for their rights at the firm.

Louis-Botha