A Just Defiance. Peter Harris

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СКАЧАТЬ were that Molope was there for the weekend.

      The next morning the unit met up and Jabu listened to Ting Ting’s information. After a brief discussion, they decided to assassinate Brigadier Molope that night. The task went to Ting Ting, Joseph and the fifth man in the unit, Justice Mbizana. The men parted, the three heading off to retrieve weapons and ammunition from a secret cache.

      On the way to Molope’s house, the three were stopped at a police roadblock. To turn round would be dangerous. There was no alternative but to sit it out. Yet surely the car would be searched. A policeman in full combat gear holding an R4 rifle approached them. Ting Ting rolled down the window and politely greeted the officer. The policeman glanced into the car, hesitated, then waved them through.

      Despite a kick of adrenaline at this close encounter, the three reconnoitered the mistress’s house: Molope’s car was in the yard. Ting Ting stopped the Audi in a nearby street. It was night but the township was bathed in the orange glow of the tall arc lights, the Apollos. The men went over the operation. Ting Ting would wait in the car. Justice was to take the lead, Joseph to cover him. They were to saunter to the house. The woman should not be hurt. Afterwards they should walk calmly back to the car. No running or they would attract attention.

      Joseph and Justice went off. Ting Ting placed his Makarov pistol between his legs. He felt the reassuring shape of the hand grenade in his pocket and wondered if he would have to use it.

      He watched Joseph and Justice round the corner and head towards Molope’s house. They were both wearing overcoats over dark tracksuits bought specially for night missions. Each was carrying an AK-47 beneath his overcoat, as well as a hand grenade.

      They went through the garden gate and onto the stoep to the left of the front door. Joseph remained in the shadows at the corner of the stoep while Justice, his AK-47 at the ready, knocked loudly. They heard footsteps. The door opened. It was the woman. She saw Justice and the AK-47 levelled at her and screamed. She tried to slam the door but Justice kicked it open. He saw the massive frame of Molope coming up fast behind the woman, protected by her. Justice froze, not wanting to shoot the woman but knowing that if he didn’t open fire first, they were in big trouble.

      Suddenly the woman, still screaming, threw herself behind the door. Molope was close now, grabbing at his gun in its holster. Justice pressed the trigger of the AK-47, the recoil pushing him backwards. The volley caught Molope full in the chest, but still the policeman advanced. Now he was in Joseph’s line of sight and he too fired a short burst into the giant man. Molope went down, his body falling forwards, face first. He lay jerking, thick blood spreading beneath him. The woman was silent. Joseph walked up to Molope and fired short automatic bursts into him, one two, one two, as he had been trained, holding his accuracy, wanting to make sure the hated brigadier was dead.

      Then the two men walked away holding their AK-47s in the air, Justice telling the gathering onlookers, ‘Ngenane ezindlini, singabe MK.’ Go into your houses, we are MK.

      The next day the unit heard radio reports of Molope’s killing. There was spontaneous celebrating in the streets of Winterveld.

       8

      Liaising with the office of the attorney-general in Pretoria on the case of Jabu Masina and the Three Others is only a marginally better experience than dealing with the prison warders at Maximum Security. No legal collegiality here, just the same obstructive treatment. Cold enmity behind a veneer of legal professionalism. But when I finally get the charge sheet, I start to regret the rush. There are forty-nine charges and I realise that, if anything, the accused have been somewhat modest about their activities, and with good reason.

      The charge sheet, dated 15 May 1987 and signed by the deputy attorney-general of the Transvaal, M T van der Merwe, senior counsel, states that from 1977 to 1986 all four of the accused received intensive and specialised military training in a number of countries, including Mozambique, Zambia, Angola, Tanzania and the German Democratic Republic.

      The main charge says it all: ‘And whereas the accused during the period 1977 to September 1986 and in the Republic and elsewhere and with hostile intent against the state to overthrow the government of the state and through force to endanger it (a) conspired with the ANC and its members . . . to promote the aims of the ANC and to commit the acts set out in the annexure hereto . . . therefore the accused are guilty of the crime of high treason.’ It is downhill from there.

      There are three charges of contravening the Terrorism Act of 1967, involving the commission of what the Act describes as ‘a range of terrorist activities’. Six charges that relate to contravening the provisions of the Internal Security Act, 74 of 1982. Four charges of murder. Three charges of attempted murder. Twelve charges of malicious damage to property. And the cherry on the top, the main charge of high treason. As usual in these cases, there are a number of alternative charges. It reminds me of that song about a man loading sixteen tons of coal, one fist of iron and one of steel, ‘. . . and if the left don’t get you, then the right one will . . . dum dum dum.’

      If I have been left in any doubt as to how serious these charges are, there are also charges of contravening the Arms and Ammunition Act, 75 of 1969, by unlawful possession of the following assortment of weapons: two Makarov pistols and their fully loaded magazines, five AK-47 combat rifles and twenty-three fully loaded magazines, two Russian SPM-2 limpet mines and related components, four 158 mini limpet mines with igniters and time fuses, two Russian defensive F-1 hand grenades, eleven RGD offensive hand grenades and a variety of igniters, six military-type mechanical detonators, one TM-57 landmine and its detonator, numerous rounds of ammunition and, just in case things got out of hand, one RPG anti-tank rocket launcher.

      I know that if the accused are found guilty on any one of the charges of murder there is a strong likelihood of the death sentence. There are four such charges here, as well as the main count of high treason, which also carries the death penalty. There’s something else: I know that the State justice system is an efficient one and that they would never put up charges of murder in a high-profile political trial unless they had a rock-solid case. Treason is possibly arguable. But a murder trial probably based on confessions, with the type of judges allocated to political trials, makes conviction highly likely. If no extenuating circumstances can be found, it is obligatory for the judge to pass the ultimate sentence. Death by hanging.

       9

      Jabu Masina had never been in such a big lorry. Climbing over the stacked furniture, he shouted to his brothers and sisters, looking forward to the move to a new house in a different area. The flurry and fuss of the white men added to the excitement although the men were loud and frightening. On the truck his mother cried softly. But to a nine-year-old, the prospect of the big move was thrilling.

      The day had started early with the police and the council workers coming in their vans and massive trucks. The night before, his stepfather had told them they’d have to move from the small house in Western Native Township where they’d lived for as long as he could remember. The two-bedroomed house with a kitchen and dining room and an outside toilet was home to the family of thirteen. Jabu’s grandmother and his mother’s younger sister, an uncle and two cousins also shared the house. Jabu slept in the kitchen with his five brothers, head to toe.

      Jabu Masina, born on 26 December 1950, was the second-eldest child. The eldest, his brother Nodo, had died, stabbed at the age of fifteen in a fight trying to shield a friend. Jabu had never known his father and his mother never mentioned the man. The boy didn’t know if he was dead or had abandoned them. Nor did he ever raise the topic as it angered his mother. His stepfather, Jumbo, was a good man, and looked after them as his own children.

      Jumbo was a domestic worker, a СКАЧАТЬ