Robert Sobukwe - Lie on Your Wounds: The Prison Correspondence of Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe

LIE ON YOUR

WOUNDS

LIE ON YOUR

WOUNDS

The Prison Correspondence of
Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe

Selected and edited by Derek Hook

In association

AFRICAN LIVES

Published in South Africa by:

Wits University Press

1 Jan Smuts Avenue

Johannesburg 2001

www.witspress.co.za

Compilation Derek Hook 2019

Published edition Wits University Press 2019

Images Copyright holders

First published 2019

http://dx.doi.org.10.18772/22019012408

978-1-77614-240-8 (Paperback)

978-1-77614-241-5 (Web PDF)

978-1-77614-242-2 (EPUB)

978-1-77614-272-9 (Mobi)

This book is number 14 in the African Lives series, an independent writing and publishing initiative that aims to contribute to a post-colonial intellectual history of South Africa. The series editor is Professor Andre Odendaal, Honorary Professor in History and Heritage Studies, University of the Western Cape.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher, except in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act, Act 98 of 1978.

All images remain the property of the copyright holders. Every effort has been made to locate the original copyright holders of the images reproduced here; please contact Wits University Press in case of any omissions or errors.

The letter on reprinted with kind permission of Frances Suzman Jowell and the Helen Suzman Foundation.

Images on taken by Derek Hook.

Images on courtesy of Peter Magubane.

Images on courtesy of the SA Jewish Museum and the Jewish Digital Archive Project.

Images on back cover and on reproduced with permission from the Sobukwe family.

Image on courtesy of Wits Historical Papers, photographer unknown.

Project manager: Julie Miller

Editor: Russell Martin

Proofreader: Janine Loedolff

Indexer: Sanet le Roux

Cover design: Hybrid Creative

Typesetter: Newgen

Typeset in 11 point Crimson

Table of Contents

by Otua Sobukwe

Delivered by Mr Sobukwe, October 21, 1949

Preface

By Otua Sobukwe

My Robben Island Awakening

D uring the apartheid regime, Robben Island was the most notorious prison in South Africa. Enclosed in its prison walls were struggle icons whose names we continue to celebrate today Sisulu, Mandela and many other unsung heroes. Amongst them but purposely separated was Robert Sobukwe, a freedom fighter who was banned to solitary confinement for leading an anti-pass march campaign that galvanised people on the path to the countrys democracy. About thirty years later, the same island became the home of a young, adventurous little girl me; his granddaughter. I lived on the island with my uncle who worked there for 8 months.

Paradoxically, Robben Island is one of the most beautiful places in the world. But when you put yourself in the shoes of a prisoner, there comes a shift of perspective.

Suddenly, things begin to lose their beauty.

The blueness of the sky loses its colour, as candyfloss clouds morph into grey patches, the singing tune of seagulls begins to mimic a pained cry, the once tranquil ebb and flow of the sea is now melancholic, yearning, and, more so, the mainland, its shimmering lights, their faintness, is no longer picturesque, no longer romantic, but just a cold reminder of the separating distance and the harsh reality, the harsh juxtaposition, that you are indeed alone.

The seven-year-old me was oblivious to this atmosphere of solitude. The place where my grandfather stood for his battle, longed for his family, and wept in his loneliness was the same place that framed my warm, explorative childhood. I didnt realize the weight of the island nor the significance of its history.

But ten years later, I understood. Intimately complex and profound I realised that somehow my surroundings had brought me closer to a man that I had never met and opened my eyes to an identity I had never fully grasped.

That my roots are of an African soil has never been an incongruity to me. I have always wholly embraced my African identity; I am of its branches, its rivers, its auburn sunsets. However, when I returned to Robben Island, now seventeen, it occurred to me, this sudden epiphany, that I am not only a reflection of Africa, but a continuation of AfriKa. And these two Afric(k)as are not the same; one is the vessel and the other the spirit.

I stood there, in its beauty. My Afrikan seed beginning to germinate, I let my grandfathers words Love your Afrika water my roots, and as I felt the connection of our souls, it dawned on me, quite frighteningly, but beautifully too, that I am not only of his blood, but of his battle.

You see, Africa is not free, I whispered. She is a frightened bird in a rusting cage, with bent bars painted in crusting promises. She limps on a beaten leg too exhausted to bleed and bows her head when she speaks. She needs to be freed. But only Afrika can free Africa.

Like most young people, I didnt get this at first. My life was my own and my goals were fixed. I didnt understand that there was a continental vision or an ancestral goal that I was intertwined with. Yet the clues were there, my grandfather being one.

What Sobukwe started in South Africa, the unconditional passion he devoted to his movement, I realized, was the same fire that would ignite mine, whatever it be, in my life. Energy can never be created or destroyed, but only transferred or changed from one form to another.

And so there I was. A growing, energised Afrikan plant. One that would grow tall and blossom and, as if self-pollinating, return to its home, my Afrika, and give back to what it previously could not help fix. For education was three things: One, to break the shackles of my circumstance and end the cycle of my poverty. Two, to achieve a monumental freedom which my grandfather was never granted. And three, to be part of the key that would one day release the frightened bird.

How ironic life is, that Robben Island prison was to me not only a home, but one of the most liberating experiences of my life. And so, it is in this spirit that I encourage you to read the letters that my grandfather Sobukwe wrote, because captured in his words is not only his pain, but the beauty of his pain as a sacrifice for freedom.

Acknowledgements

T he Sobukwe family Dini, Miliswa and Otua in particular were supportive and encouraging at each step of the books production. I am particularly grateful to have been invited by the family in December 2014 to Graaff-Reinet to celebrate the 90th anniversary of Robert Mangaliso Sobukwes birth. Benjamin Pogrund deserves thanks not only for having the foresight to save all his correspondence with (and related to) Sobukwe the historical value of these documents speaks for itself but for being so willing to review and provide expert commentary on my attempts at transcription and editing. I visited him in Jerusalem in late 2014, and the time I spent with him was invaluable. Although I have worked with many people whom I have respected in my career, rarely have I had the privilege of such generous support by a person with the moral integrity and courage as the letters collected here will certainly demonstrate of Benjamin Pogrund. It goes without saying that people interested in the life of Sobukwe would benefit from reading this volume alongside Benjamin Pogrunds book How Can Man Die Better: The Life of Robert Sobukwe