The clearest indicator of a failing regime is its escalating violence towards its citizens. The 1980’s saw the most intense, violent clampdown by the South African government on any opposition to their racist apartheid policies. The number of internal security laws mushroomed giving the police and army carte blanche to trample all over the lives of ordinary citizens and violate human rights with impunity, as if apartheid was not sufficient violation of the human rights of the majority of South Africans. Anyone showing any resistance was classified a terrorist and was treated as such. The government declared a state of emergency in 1986 with predictable morbid results - large numbers of black South Africans were violently assaulted, tortured and detained without trial, if they were lucky; the unlucky ones simply disappeared down unused mineshafts or were killed and buried in government-run death farms like Vlakplaas. Victims’ families told stories of hearing a knock on the door of their house followed by a rush of terror. Just as we see today in many parts of the world, the ones labeling others “terrorist” are most often the greatest terrorists of all.
Less than an hour earlier I’d been sitting at my desk writing in my journal about the day’s events – “attended a Mechanics study session,” “worked through Physics,” “got help with my computer project.” I end the entry with “I’m very worried about exams.”
But, of course, I didn’t die. They trashed the apartment, went through my letters, journal, photos, all my personal belongings. They appeared confused. They spoke among themselves, got on their radios, flipped through a mug-shot book looking up at me periodically. They had the wrong person.
Looking back, I was angry about the whole incident. Angry that the police could dish out such terror, terror that fractured something within me. Angry at the indignity. I hate the way I screamed and the way I shook. I hate the fact that my eyes filled with tears. I wish I had been bolder, more brave. That I had said something strong and challenging rather than stutter and whimper like I did. But I was afraid. I was filled with fear … just like the men who stood there threatening my life, just like the men and women who had sent them.
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You have such a positive attitude despite the horrific experience - really admirable!
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