Bantu Holomisa: The Game Changer

By Bantu Holomisa and Eric Naki

Bantu Holomisa is one of South Africa’s most respected and popular political figures. Born in the Transkei in 1955, he attended an elite school for the sons of chiefs and headmen. While other men his age were joining Umkhonto weSizwe, Holomisa enrolled in the Transkeian Defence Force and rose rapidly through the ranks.

As head of the Transkeian Defence Force, Holomisa led successive coups against the homeland regimes and then became the head of its military government. He turned the Transkei into a ‘liberated space’, giving shelter to ANC and PAC activists, and declared his intention of holding a referendum on the reincorporation of the Transkei into South Africa. These actions brought him immense popularity and the military dictator became a liberation hero for many South Africans.
When the unbanned ANC held its first election for its national executive in 1994, Holomisa, who had by now joined the party, received the most votes, beating long-time veterans and party stalwarts. He and Mandela developed a close relationship, and Holomisa served in Mandela’s cabinet as deputy minister for environmental affairs and tourism. As this biography reveals, the relationship with both Mandela and the ANC broke down after Holomisa testified before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, among other issues, that Stella Sigcau and her cabinet colleagues had accepted a bribe from Sol Kerzner.

After being expelled from the ANC, Holomisa formed his own party, the United Democratic Movement, with Roelf Meyer. As leader of the UDM, Holomisa has played a prominent role in building coalitions among opposition parties and in leading important challenges to the dominant party.
This biography, written in collaboration with Holomisa, presents an engaging and revealing account of a man who has made his mark as a game changer in South African politics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Picador Africa
• Release date: Nov 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781770104822

Bantu Holomisa

Bantubonke Harrington Holomisa was born on 25 July 1955 in Mqanduli, Eastern Cape. He joined the Transkei Defence Force in 1976 and had become a Brigadier by 1985. Holomisa forced the resignation and exile of Prime Minister of Transkei George Matanzima in October 1987 and overthrew Matanzima's successor, Prime Minister Stella Sigcau in December 1987. Holomisa then became the Transkei's head of government from 1987 to 1994, when Transkei was reintegrated into South Africa. In 1994 Holomisa was elected to the African National Congress National Executive Committee, and was the Deputy Minister of Environment and Tourism of South Africa. After testifying before the Truth and Reconciliation Commission he was expelled from the ANC on 30 September 1996. He co-founded the United Democratic Movement in 1997 with Roelf Meyer, and was elected to parliament in 1999. Currently Holomisa is a South African Member of Parliament and President of the United Democratic Movement.

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BANTU HOLOMISA

BANTU HOLOMISA

The Game Changer

An Authorised Biography

ERIC NAKI

PICADOR AFRICA

First published in 2017 by Picador Africa

an imprint of Pan Macmillan South Africa

Private Bag X19

Northlands

Johannesburg

2116

www.panmacmillan.co.za

ISBN 978-1-77010-481-5

eBook ISBN 978-1-77010-482-2

© 2017 Bantu Holomisa

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

While every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy of the details, facts, names and places mentioned, this book is partly based on memory – of the subject of the biography himself and of all those interviewed. The publisher and author welcome feedback, comments and/or corrections that could further enrich the book.

Editing by Russell Martin

Proofreading by Lisa Compton

Cover design by publicide

Cover photograph of Bantu Holomisa by Greg Marinovich

Cover photograph of Eric Naki by Nigel Sibanda/The Citizen

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgements

Part 1: The Chief’s Son

1. A royal upbringing

2. Home away from home

3. A political education

Part 2: The Soldier

4. Enlisting in the Transkei Defence Force

5. Holomisa’s detention

6. The ousting of George Matanzima

Part 3: The Military Ruler

7. The military coup

8. An open-door administration

9. Creating a haven for MK and APLA

10. Undoing the Matanzima legacy

11. Crusader against corruption

12. The 1990 coup against Holomisa

13. The trial of the coup plotters

Part 4: The National Politician

14. In Madiba’s shadow

15. Negotiating the future South Africa

16. In the ANC government

17. Expulsion from the ANC

18. Leading the UDM

19. A man for all people

20. Family man and sportsman

21. The way forward

Appendix 1: ‘The Rise and Fall of Bantu Holomisa’ and ‘Comrades in Corruption’

Appendix 2: ‘Draft Problem Statement: Towards a National Convention’

Notes

Pictures

PREFACE

The Eastern Cape is known for having been at the forefront of black resistance against colonial and apartheid oppression, which lasted more than three hundred years. The area became a terrain of struggle. During the colonial era, numerous so-called Frontier Wars were fought intermittently by the European settlers against the Xhosa and Khoikhoi, leaving a trail of death and dispossession. The same area was to lead the way in the twentieth century, when black nationalism provided fierce resistance to apartheid rule. Many of the liberation movement leaders, such as Nelson Mandela, Walter Sisulu, Oliver Tambo, Robert Sobukwe and Steve Biko, originated here and, for some time after the demise of apartheid, the province continued to influence the country’s politics.

The region was also the site of the apartheid government’s first experiment in implementing the homeland system, which was meant to confine black people in unproductive land reserves while depriving them of their South African citizenship. The first homeland to accept apartheid-style ‘independence’ was Transkei, which was held up as a model of the policy of separate development. Transkei was the first to establish a defence force as part of its independence package. Initially trained by white officers from South Africa, the Transkei Defence Force recruited members from among the youth of the territory, some of whom would go on to occupy senior positions in the force. One of the first recruits was Bantubonke Holomisa.

Holomisa is an unusual human being who chose to live a simple life when he could have taken advantage of what the system offered those willing to collaborate. This book will take you through the journey of his life, beginning as a shepherd boy in rural Mqanduli and a royal child attending an elite college for the sons of chiefs and headmen in the Transkei, and becoming a young soldier who made his way to the top, a head of state who came to power at a very young age through a military coup, a nationalist who supported and joined the liberation movement, an environmental activist, an internationalist and, latterly, a national politician and true democrat who believes in the supremacy of the country’s constitution. As you read, you will also realise that throughout his life and political career Bantubonke has stayed true to his name, being a humble, charitable and down-to-earth ‘man of all the people’.

My expectation before I began writing this book was that I would be dealing with complex issues of state. But I was surprised when I found out that even as a head of state, Holomisa operated in a simple manner. He bypassed protocol and dealt with people directly, so much so that many people would come to his office and bring their problems to him. In the streets he greeted and mingled with ordinary people. He may have been the only head of state in South Africa (if not in the entire continent) to live in a simple suburban house instead of in a heavily guarded state house. And whether he was head of state, deputy minister in the democratic government or an opposition leader in Parliament, he continued to support his local Tembu Royals football club and follow the fortunes of Kaizer Chiefs.

As a Bantustan leader Holomisa proved to be a game changer. He openly defied the National Party government and refused to take instructions from Pretoria. More than once he annoyed the apartheid authorities by supporting the banned liberation movement with training and other resources inside Transkei. He also unbanned the anti-apartheid black political organisations before President F.W. de Klerk famously announced their unbanning in February 1990. As if this was not enough, he released political prisoners and put a moratorium on the death penalty. Under his rule, Transkei civil servants were the first in any of the homelands to receive salaries equal to those of their South African counterparts. As a result he faced a budgetary squeeze from Pretoria and the accusation that he was wasting taxpayers’ money.

All was not a bed of roses for Holomisa. He survived numerous assassination attempts by different groups plotting to get rid of him at various times. The Transkei intelligence service worked tirelessly to frustrate the plotters and they emerged victorious, with all the plotters eventually put behind bars.

At the centre of his rule in Transkei was a concerted anti-corruption crusade that he continued in the post-apartheid democratic dispensation after he joined the African National Congress (ANC). This made him unpopular with the ruling party and he was subsequently expelled from it and proceeded to form his own party, the United Democratic Movement (UDM). Instead of backing off, he intensified his anti-graft fight, often standing as a lone David against the giant Goliath.

With corruption intensifying under President Jacob Zuma, Holomisa built strong partnerships with other opposition parties. Together they challenged the ANC government in Parliament and in the courts. He will be forever proud of the historic victory secured by the UDM and other parties when the Constitutional Court ruled that a secret ballot could be held for the motion of no confidence in President Zuma. This ruling was to have an impact on the parliamentary process and wider implications for democracy in the country.

Holomisa consciously avoids fighting for the sake of fighting or opposing for the sake of opposition. Despite all his duels with the ANC and its government, he still believes that its policies are the best, but they lack implementation. Although Holomisa studied Marxism at school and his party policies are socialist-oriented, he is adamant that he is not wedded to any ideology. He believes there is no future for the extreme left or the extreme right in the country.

Even when he saw the ANC sinking deeper and deeper into corruption and political feuding, he was often prepared to assist the ruling party in order to make democracy work. His party, the UDM, served in the Thabo Mbeki government and Holomisa himself participated in a government initiative to bring stability to and improve the conditions and remuneration of members of the South African National Defence Force.

Holomisa has become one of the major political role players in South Africa. From the opposition benches, he continues to pursue his political vision. According to him, the future of the country lies in a joint effort by all South African stakeholders to decide on the way forward. From the early years of his political career, he proposed a national convention of all parties, civil society and other role players to thrash out the modalities for a peaceful society of which all can be proud. He does not believe that one party will be able to solve the problems facing the country and he argues that a coalition government is the future of South Africa. At the time this book was being written, Holomisa had received a mandate from other opposition parties to bring the national convention issue to the fore.

There is a lot that we have not recorded in this book about Bantu Holomisa’s life. We did not delve into his generous charity work at home and throughout the country, including paying for the education of many people out of his own pocket, organising bursaries and giving without expecting anything back. He avoids talking about his generosity towards others but remains proud that he is able to help where he can. This is the man whose life we describe in the pages that follow.

* * *

It has been a long two years since the signing of the contract for this book. For me as a first-time author, it has been a long journey of interviews, travel, reading, research, analysis, writing and everything in between. This included the verification of names of people and places and the exact dates on which certain events happened. At times I had to resort to the old journalistic habit of trying to obtain the other side of the story when contentious issues were raised. It proved to be a mammoth task. Getting small details such as full first names of people or their correct military ranks more than twenty years after events was not easy. It was made even more difficult by the fact that people who should have known had often forgotten these details owing to the passage of time. And in most cases people had clearly never used each other’s first names, as was the custom during the period in question, when people called each other by their surnames.

At the time, events were recorded and published only in hard-copy newspapers. Many newspapers in South Africa took a long time to introduce online editions and, even then, they often did not transfer their hard-copy archive material to electronic formats. If you do any research at the East London-based Daily Dispatch, which covered the Transkei extensively, you have to go through a mountain of newspaper cuttings and files. Unlike the Dispatch, the Mail & Guardian in Johannesburg fortunately transferred most of the print articles of its predecessor, the Weekly Mail, to an online platform and these are readily available.

Umtata and Mthatha are different names for the same place, the former Transkei Bantustan capital. I have wherever possible tried to use the current name of Mthatha instead of the colonial Umtata in this book. But in the process I was conscious of the fact that many institutions and commercial establishments in the region continue to use ‘Umtata’.

As the military has played a central role in the Transkei, certain individuals feature frequently in this book, especially those who became members of the Military Council and the Transkei Defence Force (TDF). From the time that the TDF was established in 1975, the ranks of the officers changed so rapidly that it was difficult to establish what rank an individual held at any particular time.

I ask for the reader’s patience if there are any errors or omissions relating to first names or military ranks. Every effort has been made to verify events and places as well as to identify individuals involved. I welcome your input if you have any corrections to offer.

Eric Naki

Johannesburg, August 2017

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express my special gratitude to certain people who played significant roles in the process of researching and writing this book. First is the librarian at the Daily Dispatch, Glynis Smith, who responded with patience and offered me all I needed during my two-day research stint in her library. She was also on hand to assist me with my follow-up telephonic enquiries about various topics. Others whom I would like to mention are my colleagues Sunday Times editor and former Dispatch editor Bongani Siqoko and former Business Day editor Songezo Zibi for their encouragement and their recommendation that I was the most suitable person to write this book.

As for my sources, this book is, on the whole, based on information gleaned through interviews with Major-General Bantu Holomisa. Unless stated otherwise, events are based on what he told me, as well as his speeches and media statements, supplemented with information from other people, documents, newspapers and the Internet. I have lost count of the number of times he and I sat together to discuss his life’s journey. His style of telling stories in the first person helped me in constructing my narrative. Through our interviews, I got to know the man better than during my previous interactions with him as a journalist. I visited his rural home in Mqanduli and spoke to several members of his family, including his sister, Nontelezi Beauty, his wife, Thunyelwa Nowethu, and Inkosi Phathekile Holomisa. Fortunately for me, on one occasion they were all under a single roof attending a traditional ceremony at the Hegebe Great Place in Ngqungqu. During the same visit, other people at Ngqungqu and Upper Ngqungqu, where Holomisa began his primary education, helped me freely. I wish to make special mention of Mncedisi ‘Dosini’ Bunzana, Matshayela Namfu, Wakuthi Ndima, Suphu Namfu and Nophatha Mtshakaci. Dosini sacrificed his time and air-time to put me in touch with relevant people in Mqanduli, who all gave me valuable information about Bantu as a young boy. I would also like to thank Lulamile Feni, Daily Dispatch Mthatha bureau chief, for showing me around Mqanduli on the second day. His understanding of cultural and traditional affairs helped me a lot in writing this book.

I do not regret having to wait for three hours outside the office of Dial D. Ndima while he disappeared in the ‘giant ship’ of the Unisa building in Pretoria. As a Mqanduli resident himself and a former magistrate in the town and elsewhere, Ndima has a vivid knowledge of the ups and downs of people’s lives under the Matanzimas in Transkei, both politically and from a legal perspective. He knew the Holomisas, including Bantu’s father, Chief Bazindlovu, like the back of his hand. Ndima’s book, The Law of Commoners and Kings: Narratives of a Rural Transkei Magistrate, proved to be a valuable source in my research for this book.

Inkosi Phathekile Holomisa (A! Dilizintaba) was happy to talk about his uncle. In a near-midnight interview at Komkhulu on 18 September 2015, he enthusiastically explained to me the background of Bantu and the history of the Holomisas and the entire Hegebe tribe. He appreciates the role that Bantu has played in his own life, including his contribution to his education at the University of Natal and later at Unitra. The two have great respect for each other and continue to appreciate each other’s political choices.

Bantu Holomisa’s own family, his wife Thunyelwa and their children, were happy to talk about their husband and father. I could feel the passion in their words as they spoke about his undying love for them. Bantu’s sister-in-law, Professor Luyanda Dube, offered interesting information about the couple and the sad death of their first daughter.

I reserve hearty words of gratitude for the subject of this biography, Major-General Holomisa, for the confidence he showed in me by choosing me as the author in spite of there being a sea of experts and academics who could have written this book instead. Our friendship goes back a long way, from my days as a young journalist and political activist in Mdantsane, East London, when Holomisa was the new military ruler of the Transkei. We have interacted hundreds of times throughout my journalism career.

I once conceived the idea of writing Holomisa’s biography as part of my initiative to record the history of the liberation struggle in the Eastern Cape in general. My interest in the man was heightened by an inspiring text acquired in the early 1990s at Rhodes University, entitled Undoing Independence: Regionalism and the Reincorporation of Transkei into South Africa. As a result, I did not hesitate when Holomisa and the publishers phoned me early in 2015 to request me to undertake this task. I say thank you, Mgebe, mntwan’enkosi.

Several people were vital as sources of information and verification during my research and writing. Top of the list is Lieutenant-General Temba Matanzima. Our first interview took place in a train carriage restaurant next to the N2 highway in Pretoria and then afterwards on the telephone. He is a very calm and collected gentleman and a retired general.

The second person to thank is Corporal Lulamile Sidwaba, a former Transkei Military Intelligence member. Sidwaba has a vivid memory of what happened during the period of the Transkei military government and, like Lt-General Matanzima, provided vital information about the Holomisa-led coup, the military government and the coup attempt by Holomisa’s second-in-charge, Colonel Craig Duli. Sidwaba played the role of fighter and courier between the high command and the troops at the military base when Duli and his group attacked the camp. He was present during the siege at the Botha Sigcau building on 22 November 1990.

Former Transkei state law adviser Zam Titus spent hours with me in a mall in Pretoria East talking about the military government in Transkei. He not only provided me with important documents, including legislation about the military government and its participation in the CODESA talks, but gave me advice on how to structure the book. This helped to ease the process.

Further, I have no words to express my gratefulness to Mkhumbuzi Titus, a former member of the Council of Ministers in the Holomisa government, who gave me useful information about the cabinet’s composition. To both Bra Zam and his uncle, I wish to say ’ndiyakhahlela Maqwathi amahle!

Advocate Dumisa Ntsebeza, with whom I spent an entire afternoon and part of the evening at his law office in Sandton, was animated as he told me the story of Bantu, whom he taught at high school. He even lent me his last copy of his own book, Unfinished Business, to use as a valuable reference.

Regarding the UDM, besides the interviews I had with Bantu himself about the party, I also obtained some material about the history of the party from its website and research through the Internet in general. UDM officials played a significant role in supplying me with information about the party. Central to the process was Nqabayomzi Kwankwa, who undertook research and emailed me mounds of material about the UDM’s election performance over the years, its challenges caused by floor crossing and how it is renewing itself. I take my hat off to Kwankwa and his team, including Jana Warffemius, for their efforts and the research they undertook in response to my questions.

There are a few people whom I would have liked to interview for this book but could not for various reasons. Chief among these was President Thabo Mbeki, who worked alongside Holomisa at Shell House and in the Union Buildings. I was also interested in talking to Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, a very close friend and Holomisa’s fellow cabinet minister. I am sure that had I managed to talk to her, this book would have been richer for it. But I could not secure an interview with her because of her ill health.

There are also people I interviewed for this book, but whose information unfortunately I could not use. My apologies to them and my thanks for their cooperation.

I am highly indebted to Russell Martin, the editor of this book. Through his editing notes he taught me vital lessons and tricks of the game as he pointed out some mistakes and repetitions that I could not easily see in the writing process. All his advice will definitely serve as a guide in any future writing endeavours. His advice has assisted my slow transformation from journalist to author.

My biggest thanks go to the Pan Macmillan publisher, Andrea Nattrass, for her patience with me and General Holomisa during the delays caused by our busy schedules.

Last but not least, my wife, Nokulunga, provided the necessary encouragement and nagging to remind me about the deadlines. Like a teacher demanding an assignment from her student, she was keen to be an ‘irritation’ to me until I finished this book. ‘Have you saved?’ was her mantra every time I was busy on my laptop. She always wants me to succeed. Thank you, my darling.

Eric Naki

Johannesburg, August 2017

PART 1

THE CHIEF’S SON

CHAPTER 1

A ROYAL UPBRINGING

The qualities that those who deal with Bantu Holomisa on a personal or political level often remark about – his attentiveness to others, his modesty, his self-discipline, his steadfast adherence to what he believes is right and true – are in part the product of his childhood grounding.

Bantubonke Harrington Holomisa, or Bantu Holomisa as he is commonly known, is the son of Chief Bazindlovu Holomisa, the traditional leader of the amaGebe clan of the abaThembu, who are themselves part of the greater amaXhosa nation.¹ Bantu was born on 25 July 1955 to Nokhonsathi Holomisa in Mqanduli, a small town situated about thirty-five kilometres south-west of Mthatha in the former Transkei, the mostly rural eastern half of the Eastern Cape, where the majority of that province’s population resides.

A great portion of the town of Mqanduli is located on land that historically belongs to the Hegebe.² The centrally situated area of Ngqungqu is where the chiefly seat, the Hegebe Great Place (Komkhulu), has been continuously occupied from ancestral times when the entire land of the amaGebe was won and consolidated after the so-called Wars of the Spears and Bush-knives in the precolonial era. Bantu’s grandfather, Nkosi Holomisa I, had eleven wives and his first-born son, Nkosi Mdlungu William Bazindlovu Holomisa, Bantu’s father, had four. While his grandfather Holomisa was famous for growing fruits, in particular bananas and oranges, Bazindlovu, his son and successor, was in contrast a keen stockfarmer with a huge herd of cattle and extensive lands under maize cultivation.³ He had an extra-long ox-wagon, which was pulled by a span of sixteen oxen. Being so large, it was easy to identify when seen approaching from a distance, and residents would remark: ‘Nants’ inqwelo yaKomkhulu! Naz’ iinkabi zaseNgqungqu’ (There comes the ox-wagon from the Great Place, there comes the oxen span from Ngqungqu).⁴ Many villagers aspired to be like Bazindlovu and they too kept livestock, which was also a sign of their owner’s wealth.⁵ When a man had money, instead of keeping it in the bank, he would buy cattle – what was called his ‘live money’.

As a traditional leader, Bazindlovu was part of the political elite that dominated life in the Transkei. During the apartheid era, traditional leaders were divided between those who participated in the homeland system or collaborated with it, such as Kaiser Matanzima and his brother George, and those who either joined it in order to undermine it from within, like Sabata Dalindyebo and Victor Poto, or else completely rejected it, like Nelson Mandela and others, who fought it through the liberation movement. Though political enemies, they were all somehow linked together by tribal and family ties. Chief Bazindlovu, who was among the homeland collaborators, was related to all these strands – Matanzima, Dalindyebo and Mandela. He was a well-respected leader who was highly educated and spoke excellent English. As an orator, he was famous for his performances during the sittings of the Bhunga (the old Transkeian Territorial General Council) and the Transkei Legislative Assembly.

Bazindlovu was a product of missionary education at the Anglican school of St John’s College in Mthatha, which, like Clarkebury College in Ngcobo, Lovedale College in Alice, and Healdtown College in Fort Beaufort, played a catalysing role in the intellectual, political and sociological formation of the African elites in the first half of the twentieth century.⁶ Bazindlovu wanted his children to be educated as well. His son Prince Mzizi Milton and his daughter Nontelezi Beauty, his first-born child, became teachers, while Bantu’s mother, Nokhonsathi, was a nurse. The rest of the clan also sent their children to school and most of them qualified eventually as professionals, mainly as teachers. The rural elite in the hinterland of Transkei invested heavily in the education of their children. The missionary education had a huge impact on their lives and those of their descendants, long after the missionaries themselves had left the field.

Chief Bazindlovu had a great influence on his son Bantu and, like him, followed both a military and political career. The chief led a contingent of African soldiers in the South African army during the Second World War. He was also a member of the United Transkeian Territorial General Council (known as iBhunga)⁷ and, later, its successor, the Transkei Legislative Assembly, the Parliament of the Transkei homeland under the prime ministership and subsequently the presidency of Kaiser Matanzima. Both the Bhunga and the homeland Parliament derived strength and authority from the support of traditional leaders, who also composed the bulk of the Matanzima cabinet.

Bazindlovu was a close ally of K.D. Matanzima, who, as a paramount chief in his own right, ensured that chiefs and their children occupied senior positions in all his government’s structures. The two were not just politicians who encountered each other in the corridors of power but were also related as in-laws because Bazindlovu’s great wife, Nothembile, was Matanzima’s aunt. Also, the qadi (supporting) wife of Bazindlovu’s father, Holomisa I, was the daughter of Matanzima I, Matanzima’s father.⁸

This relationship put Bazindlovu in a quandary, for he found himself politically torn between the Matanzimas and their arch-enemies, the Dalindyebos. The two abaThembu houses had a long and acrimonious rivalry over which one was the senior and, therefore, the legitimate heir of the abaThembu kingship. Sabata Dalindyebo was by rights the inheritor of the kingship, but Matanzima was determined to usurp it, by hook or by crook. Matanzima’s enemies were quick to point out that he had been elevated by the apartheid authorities to the position of paramount chief of Emigrant Thembuland despite the fact that he was a lesser chief compared to Dalindyebo.

Although Chief Bazindlovu joined Matanzima’s Transkei National Independence Party (TNIP), he continued with his traditional obligations to the Dalindyebo chiefdom, his father having been a trusted confidant of King Ngangelizwe of the abaThembu. Bazindlovu attended circumcision school together with Jongilizwe Sampu Dalindyebo, King Ngangelizwe’s son and father of Sabata Dalindyebo. He went on to become an adviser to Sabata’s regent, Chief Jongintaba, who was at one time Nelson Mandela’s guardian and mentor after the elder Mandela’s death. This closeness to the Dalindyebos created some distance between Bazindlovu and Matanzima. Subsequently, in 1979 Matanzima charged King Sabata with violating his dignity as president of Transkei. After being found guilty in court, Sabata was deposed as chief and then disappeared from Transkei, resurfacing in exile in Lusaka under the aegis of the African National Congress (ANC).

* * *

Inkosi Bazindlovu did not spare the rod with any of his children and saw to it that all his wives disciplined their brood. The chief wanted the boy to grow up knowing the difference between right and wrong and owning up when he did wrong. The strict discipline that was to govern Bantubonke throughout his life started at home. Before he began school, Bantu knew already that it was wrong to steal, to lie or to cheat, and not to respect his elders. These were the ways and principles which all the children in Bazindlovu’s household followed.⁹

Nokhonsathi’s job as a nurse took her away from her son from the time he was still a little boy. She worked in private hospitals and old-age homes in Johannesburg, the City of Gold, where many Transkeians went to live and work. Being a migrant and living such a long distance away from home, she became somewhat detached from her son. In this respect, he was like most other children in the Transkei, whose fathers and mothers had to leave home to seek work in the large cities and on the farms of South Africa. For almost a century, the Transkei was one of the largest labour reserves for the mining industry and it provided the bulk of the workers destined for underground. Bantu, like all children of migrants, also suffered the effects of the system because of his mother’s long absences. She could not be as close and dominant an influence on his life as those mothers who stayed with their children while they grew up.

As a child Bantu didn’t know exactly where his mother worked until he was a teenager. The image he had of Johannesburg (eRhawutini) was not a positive one, for he heard stories of how some people went there and never came back. Johannesburg, unlike the Eastern Cape with its rolling hills and breathtaking river gorges, was, to him, just an ugly stretch of flat land dotted with mine dumps. It was nothing but a beast that ate people, who as a result didn’t return home to their children. ‘In my mind my mother was beyond those man-made mountains and swallowed in the belly of that beast that ate miners. I hated it all for keeping her away from me.’

Nokhonsathi came home only once in a long time, but then she would make time for Bantu. ‘We had our moments together when she was home in Mqanduli. The little time she had with me as her child helped to recoup our bonding and that helped to raise little suspicion in me that she was my biological mother, though I wasn’t 100 per cent sure, since I was separated from her as a toddler. But she endeared herself to me in many ways and that unnatural separation of a mother and child failed to break the umbilical cord that bound us together as one blood. There were times when I missed her although she was still not my mother in my mind,’ Bantu says.

When she was around, once in a blue moon, the children in the village would say, ‘Ufikile umama kaBantubonke’ (Bantubonke’s mother has arrived). The children from the neighbourhood would converge on his second home at Upper Ngqungqu village in Mqanduli, each trying to be his best friend in the hope that he would share with them the nice things his mother had brought from Johannesburg.

‘During that period I knew that I was to be pampered and given special attention and affection from her. I would be the toast of my friends and schoolmates in the village, who also always looked forward to my mother’s visits as they also shared the food and drinks she brought from Johannesburg. During her visits, Nokhonsathi would love me as if trying to compensate for the time she was away from me. I marvelled at it all, though, for I would be looking smart and eating nicely all the time. Mama wanted to see me always clean and attending school. I think being health conscious and dictating terms about hygiene to children comes naturally to a nurse. To nurses everything that appears dirty had germs all over it: that’s the perception I had of my mother,’ he says.

It is pleasing to be able to record that after their long years of separation, Bantu and his mother became closer when he was an adult and the military leader of the Transkei. On her retirement, she came and stayed with her son and his family in Fort Gale in Mthatha. ‘After many years and in the middle of my adulthood, she was there among us to call me my child and sometimes freely shouting, "Bantubonke, mnt’ anam yiza apha! [Bantubonke, come here, my child!] And as if I was still a teenager, she would sometimes send me on sudden errands, oblivious to the protocol and security considerations of a head of state. I had to oblige. In our culture, you forever remain a child or a little boy" to your parents no matter whether you are a grown-up man with a family or leading a country. To them all that is meaningless.’

Nokhonsathi’s presence at Fort Gale relieved Bantu’s wife of the burden of looking after her children and her household chores and enabled her to spend time on her studies and other professional matters. The couple’s children enjoyed having a granny in the house. ‘As a soldier at the time and head of state later, I had little time to be with them at home. But the weekend was when I found time to be with them. That would be the time when Mama and I would talk closely. She would give me parental advice about a lot of things. Sometimes she would tell me what to and what not to do in government in order to stay safe. I used to just stand there, nod, smile and leave when she was done. She was the only person in my home to take an interest in my politics, unlike my wife, who preferred to mind her own business and the family. I became close to her, I was mama’s boy if you like.’

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As a royal child, Bantu had to follow all the traditions expected