MARRIED

TO THE

STRUGGLE

ii

iii

iv

MARRIED TO THE

STRUGGLE

‘Nanna’ Liz Abrahams

Tells her Life Story

Edited by

Yusuf Patel and

Philip Hirschsohn

University of the Western Cape

in association with Diana Ferrus Publishers

v

First published in 2005 by

University of the Western Cape

Modderdam Road

Bellville 7535

South Africa

© 2005 Elizabeth Abrahams

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 prior permission in writing from the copyright

owner.

Cover photograph © Mayibuye Centre.

ISBN 0 620 34984 0

Editors: Yusuf Patel and Philip Hirschsohn

Printed and bound by Printwize, Bellville.

vi

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Preface – Philip Hirschsohn

Foreword – Yusuf Patel

Dedication – Diana Ferrus

NANNA’S LIFE STORY

1 Early Days

2 Seasonal Work in the Canning Factory

3 The ‘Subs’ Steward

4 Life as General Secretary

5 Providing Political Support

6 Marital Struggle

7 Being Banned

8 Back to Union Work

9 Politics in the 1980s

10 Detention Without Trial

11 From Retirement to Parliament

12 Unions, Then and Now

13 In Conclusion

Bibliography

vii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No project of can be completed without the support of

librarians, archivists and others who assist with locating

historical materials. Thanks to Graham Goddard, Ester

Van Driel, Moipone Motlhatlego and Mariki Victor at the

University of the Western Cape Robben Island

Museum’s Mayibuye Archive for locating photographic,

video and audio material and providing access to

Cassandra Parker’s recordings and transcripts used in the

preparation of Women in Struggle: A Preview, on which

much of this story draws.

Marlene Goosen and Brenda Pagel of the Drakenstein

Heemkring in Paarl helped to source photographs from

the Gribble Collection, while Dominic Swartz, Media

Officer of Food and Allied Workers Union, provided

access to photographs in the union’s archives.

Special thanks to Tony Grogan for drawing the four

cartoons included in this booklet and to Diana Ferrus for

writing and dedicating a poem, for the occasion of Liz

Abrahams’ 80th

birthday.

viii

PREFACE

‘Nanna’ Liz Abrahams is an icon of the struggle for

labour, women’s and political rights in South Africa. Her

illustrious career as an activist has stretched over more

than sixty years and it is a great privilege to be able to

publish her life story to coincide with her 80th

birthday.

Her life story has been published as a separate booklet to

document, recognise and salute, in a small way, her

enormous contribution.

This life story is part of a larger research project

on the life stories of trade union activists from the

Western Cape. Soon after completing my doctorate on

the challenges facing unions during the democratic

transition, I came across a copy of a fascinating book

titled Rank-and-File: Personal Histories by Working-

Class Organizers edited by Alice and Staughton Lynd

(Monthly Review Press, 1988).

I was impressed by their argument that by

conducting life histories of rank-and-file activists we can

get past the traditional approach to labour history where

workers experience and create history while academics

document their experience, and then interpret their story

for them and society at large.

I was surprised to find a serious gap in South

African labour union history as no collection of worker

life stories has been published in South Africa. Quite a

few unionists have published their autobiographies

ix

including two, Ray Alexander and Archie Sibeko, who

worked closely with Liz Abrahams. There is, of course, a

critical difference between autobiographies, written at the

initiative of the authors, and life stories that are collected

through interviews. The academic lens and personal

perspectives of the interviewers and editors facilitates

and influences how the life story is told.

This project began in 1999 with my class of

advanced industrial relations students, enrolled for post-

graduate degrees in Management at the University of the

Western Cape. Yusuf Patel, an activist from Paarl, was

one of these students who had extensive personal

experience in the democratic struggle. Liz Abrahams was

one of his political mentors and their strong personal

bond and her life story reflects strongly on his ability to

empathise with her story.

The project was a truly collaborative venture as

the students collectively compiled the comprehensive

questionnaire that provided the framework for the

interviews. The original version of this story was based

on interviews that Yusuf Patel had with Liz Abrahams in

1999. That story has been supplemented with selected

material from audio and video interviews conducted with

Liz in 1992 by Cassandra Parker for a TV documentary,

Women in Struggle: A Preview.

Philip Hirschsohn

Cape Town

September 2005

x

FOREWORD

Some of us are recorders of history, others are makers of

history and many sit on the fence allowing these two

parties to steer the path to opportunities that can be

exploited. Nanna was and still is a maker of history. The

sort that does not calculate what they can gain out of a

process but rather what they can do to lessen the plight of

those that are suffering. Such people expound honesty,

compassion, sincerity, selflessness, tenacity,

commitment, loyalty, and above all would sacrifice

themselves to bring relief to those that are ill treated and

oppressed. This has been the character and characteristics

of Nanna’s life.

While I am thankful for being granted the

opportunity to interview Nanna, it also struck me that we

should make time to reflect on our own lives. Some of us

go through life doing many things without taking the

time to reflect on what and who influences our behaviour

and actions. I don’t think there is an activist in the Paarl

valley that can honestly say that there was not a time in

their lives that Nanna had some influence on them.

Nanna definitely had a strong influence on my

life. As a young activist in the area her modesty,

simplicity, caring but strong will to overcome the forces

of evil and suppression was forever clearly spelt out. No

long-winded theorizing on what is politically correct and

what is not. People are suffering, she would say, we have

to do something now to alleviate or reduce their

xi

suffering. We are still grappling to find the right

definition and intervention on the polemical issue of

poverty alleviation, eradication or reduction. The

intelligentsia has a field day in this regard. They can now

put forward all their theoretical versions and descriptions

and the poor practitioners become ever so confused on

what the approach should be.

Nanna’s message about the struggle was, ‘get

your hands dirty, do it with honesty and selflessness. Do

not allow yourself to be distracted by worrying what the

result is going to be’. This was and still is Nanna’s

approach and I honestly believe that that was the recipe

for our successful liberation. Today we are reaping the

success of such actions.

When I was arrested, Nanna was one of the first

persons to call on my wife and daughter to comfort and

console them. While imprisoned, I recall my feeling of

comfort and assurance when, on one of her first visits,

my daughter, then 4-years old, brought me good wishes

from Nanna. Throughout my five years of imprisonment

she stood by my family even though we did not belong to

the same political organization. This was also the case

during my days as an “activist”. She never questioned my

political affiliation nor did she ever try to recruit me. As

long as our interests were in congruence with one another

we carried on with the work that was to be done, that was

her motto. I will forever be grateful to her for her

compassion and guidance.

Nanna, I know that you don’t feel comfortable

with the hype that is bestowed upon you now that you are

xii

reaching the ripe age of eighty. This is my modest way of

saying thank you. Thank you for being there when we

needed your guidance, assurance, counseling and just for

being Nanna, our mother. You, Sis Rocky Mafekeng and

others will always have a special place in our hearts and

existence in this Valley. You are our mothers and it

should be recorded that you are the “Mothers of our

Valley”. I find it sad that up till now none of you have

been given the “Freedom of the Town”. This is the least

that can be done and an indictment of the present

leadership.

Your toil and struggle are a vital part of our

history and therefore need to be recorded. I hope that this

humble effort will encourage other recorders of history to

further research the richness of your life experiences

accumulated over the years. I also challenge my

contemporaries to research the life stories of Sis Rocky

Mafekeng and the other mothers of our struggle. As the

late Imam Khomeini had said:

“A nation who forgets its history will soon itself

be forgotten”

We not only owe this to generations to come but

also to our present comrades that have taken over the

cudgels of leadership. Your style of leadership, values,

approach and commitment are direly needed in this

political milieu that we find ourselves in. It will be a

travesty – no, treasonable - if we do not record the

history of your and your contemporaries’ lives.

xiii

Lastly, I want to express my sincere gratitude to

you Nanna for allowing me the opportunity to do the

interview with you. I hope that this account portrayed

here will contribute to placing you in the historical annals

that you deserve. I also wish to express my gratitude to

Professor Philip Hirschsohn from the University of the

Western Cape, for taking the initiative to bring such a

project into its course content and making the study of

industrial relations a living and memorable experience

that could contribute to our lives in such a practical way.

Thank you to both of you, this exercise has enriched my

life.

Yusuf Patel

Paarl

September 2005

xiv

DEDICATION

For Lizzie Abrahams on her eightieth birthday

Fourteen years old and a seasonal worker

From early morning to late at night

Canning fruit or packing trays

This was her life, her childhood days

For Lizzie Josephs her mission was sealed

She would not stop ’til her people were healed

Collecting subs at age twenty-one

She rested only when the job was done

Working with Comrade Ray and Becky Lan

On whom the authorities slapped a ban

But Lizzie battled on like a soldier possessed

Marching forward, ever giving her best

Commitment to struggle shook her family life

She had to juggle with passion, with drive

Many a times dance on the edge of a knife

And amidst all the fear, the strife

Keep the spirits high

Force the flag of resistance to fly

She wrote the script of her own “theatre play”

Dressed comrades in disguise on many a day

She hid Archie Sibeko in Johnny Mentoor’s house

The name of this play was “cat and mouse”

The Special Branch was never amused

But they could not get Lizzie, the accused

xv

When Rocky was banished to a farm near Vryburg

Lizzie said “No, I won’t let Rocky Mafekeng go”

She put Rocky and baby onto a train

When the Special Branch came it was all in vain

for Rocky was gone and no one would tell

that she was off to Lesotho and not to hell

When Lizzie was banned it was a terrible blow

But she put up a brave face as a show

She could not let the Special Branch know

That her insecurity was starting to grow

However she stayed forever strong

She knew the struggle was going to be long

FAWU, SACTU, FEDSAW, each a name

To whom Lizzie can lay a claim

But she stays in the background

Her voice a soft but very clear sound

Warns against corruption and greed

Since there still are millions to clothe and to feed

We hail the woman

From the Paarl Vallei

A stone so precious and so rare

Not to be found anywhere

A jewel we treasure and revere

Nanna’s so close to our hearts, so dear!

Diana Ferrus

1

EARLY DAYS

“she’s going to travel very far”

I was born in 1925 and grew up near Hermitage Street,

on the hill in Paarl. We were four brothers and four

sisters. My father, Henry Josephs, worked at a butcher.

When he became ill, the doctor said the climate in Paarl

was not good for his health so we moved to Cape Town

where he worked as a gravedigger in the Observatory

cemetery. We stayed there for a short while and then

came back to Paarl where we settled down.

My father was interested in politics and had to

have a newspaper every day because he wanted to know

what was going on in the country. He would tell my

mother about it but she was just occupied with raising the

children and cleaning the house. She would just listen to

what he had to say and just agreed with everything, but I

always questioned him.

However, I was always interested in what he read

in the newspaper. I was in primary school and in those

days children were not allowed to sit in the company of

adults. But whenever I told my father that we wanted to

go and play, he would say we must stay so that they can

know what we are doing. Then I would sit and listen,

until he indicated to me that he wanted me to leave.

2

Bryma Moerat’s father used to visit him a lot, and

then they talked about these matters. Bryma’s1 father

noticed that I watched and listened while my father

talked. He used to look at the gap between my front teeth

and said, ‘She’s going to travel a lot, and she’s going to

travel very far.’ I don’t know if that was a warning.

My father was strict, but he was a good man. He

never told us what to do, but he was very unhappy when

my two brothers went into the army. He did not want

them to go to War, and he always gave their letters to my

mother. He was a sportsman, and Saturday was their

sports day. He was a pleasant man, especially when he

was a bit tipsy.

I loved being in the veld, almost as a tomboy,

climbing trees. I had very few female friends. I really

liked to spend time with my parents and my sisters. We

were a knitted family and I wasn’t interested in dancing

and bioscope. I was very interested in other people’s

lives and their problems. Where we lived was mixed and

next to us were two African families and I really liked to

go play there. If I didn’t want to stay at home or someone

made me angry I ran next door and ate a little – I really

liked their stamp-mealies and beans.

I went to school at the age of nine, because you

were considered too young to go to school at the age of

six. We attended Bethanie Congregational School,

opposite the therapist and near to Du Plessis’ garage, but

they now use it as a kindergarten. Our teachers, like Mr.

1 Bryma married Liz’s sister.

3

Matthews, were very strict and you had to do your

schoolwork. At that time the lessons were mostly oral,

we did not write a lot. So, we had to concentrate and pay

attention. You got the lesson and then they asked

questions. Because of that it felt like a place of learning

to me. I found the way in which they were teaching us

very interesting. We could understand and process it,

because you will get a lesson today and you had to

remember it and tomorrow you are questioned about it.

I was a very shy person and didn’t want to get a

hiding or be ‘uitskel’ in front of the children so I always

tried to study hard. I enjoyed school but I did not enjoy

reading very much, but whenever I went for training I got

things to read at home. To this day, I read the newspaper

a lot. Otherwise, I am not someone for reading; I only

read when I have to.

In Paarl life was very difficult because there was

very little work, and most of the work was in the

factories and people were only hired when the fruit

arrived. It was very difficult if a father had to work alone.

If a husband worked and his wife did not help him, or the

child did not help the father, you could not make ends

meet. You had to make do without some things and

people had to get by on very little clothes, food, and other

household things. You had to take in two or three other

families if you could not afford to pay the rent.

Many of the children came to school without

having something to eat. They were hungry, and it is not

really a nice thing to beg. One day a child in my class

was listless but she was not really sick. She told the

4

teacher that she did not feel well because she did not eat.

The teachers were very concerned and whenever they

noticed that something was wrong with one of the

children in class, they were there to investigate.

I passed standard six but left school before high

school, which started at standard seven. My father was

never a healthy man and he struggled to support us. We

experienced financial problems because my father fell ill

and could no longer work. My father had injured himself

playing football, and was never the same person. The

butchery where he worked was cold inside and he

developed TB and died shortly afterwards.

My mother never worked regularly but when my

father became ill she had to. At that time two of my

brothers were in the army, so my mother had to go to

work to support the family, because all the other children

were still in school. She started working at the same

factory where I subsequently worked.

My brothers were in the army so my eldest sister

and I had to do the housekeeping. I really felt for my

mother because I saw that she couldn’t cope financially.

So I left school to go and help my mother. I went to work

at the factory with my mother to put the other children

through school. At a later stage I felt the need to continue

my schooling but it was impossible at the time.

We experienced a lot of difficulties and there

were times when we had to go without food, although our

parents did not want it that way. There were times when

you wanted more. You felt that you were working alone,

5

and there were eight children to take care of. That was a

difficult period for us.

Everyone tried to make the best of their lives.

When you had problems you could always go to the

church because they were very supportive. There were no

other formal support structures but the community itself

was very sympathetic towards one another because we

lived in a row of ‘barrack houses’. The toilets were at the

back, and there was one toilet that was blocked for some

time and the drains were overflowing. It was dirty and

miserable but the municipality was not very co-operative.

Dirt would lie around. Things would happen to your

dwelling. We complained but they did not take any

notice. Nothing was done about it. So the people decided

to send a delegation to the municipality. They were not

prepared to meet with us so we got together again and

elected another delegation. We went and explained the

dangers to them and asked how they could expect anyone

to live in a place like that. They finally came to fix the

toilets.

6

2

SEASONAL WORK

IN THE CANNING FACTORY

“we didn’t have lunch hours,

we didn’t have breaks,

there were no benefits”

I was 14 years old when I started working as a seasonal

worker. There was no mention of child labour at that

time. You could start working at the age of ten. In those

days the factory’s name was Premium, and it finally

changed to Langeberg.

My mother had been working there for a while

when I started in 1940. At the time that my mother

started to work in the factory, the conditions were very,

very bad because there was no union yet. My mother was

just an ordinary worker and did not bother about things

that were happening around her. When my mother came

home, she would always tell us how bad the conditions in

the factory were, the long hours, she’s tired, and she’s

hungry. I always listened to her saying that there’s no

sitting place, no cloakrooms, and that they must eat their

lunch out in the fields.

7

I worked at first in the cutting department but it

was very tiring, because you had to stand the whole day.

At that time, we didn’t have lunch hours, we didn’t have

breaks, and there were no benefits. If they wanted to they

could give you lunch-time; they could give you tea-time

– but there was no law and no agreement with the

workers. When it came to lunch-time you were at their

mercy but nowadays lunch-time is compulsory. There

were no cloakrooms. There was a big shed where they

stored the fruit which workers had to use as a cloakroom.

You did not get protective clothing either. There was no

transport to take you to work or home. You had to walk

home from work and the next morning you must walk

from the house to the factory.

As a seasonal worker we worked with apricots

and when they were finished we would be laid off for

two to three weeks. Then, when the peaches came in they

hired you again and laid you off again; the same for

pears. So, food and canning workers were not covered by

the Unemployment Insurance Act because you had to

work continuously for thirteen weeks to be covered.

If you had a baby, or even if they saw you were

pregnant then you’d get dismissed and they would not

employ you again. Later we negotiated a confinement

allowance but it was very little. You could stay at home

two months before the baby and afterwards you could

also stay two months. There was also no crèche in the

factory. Parents with small babies had to leave them in

the shed until they could breastfeed them at lunchtime.

People complained about the injustice and few benefits

8

but they accepted it because they didn’t know how to

deal with it and had no option because they had to earn

wages.

The employers could pay you whatever they

wanted to. There was day-work and piecework. When I

started I earned 75c for day-work. When you did day-

work, you normally started at 7.30 and finished at 5.45.

Sometimes you started in the morning at 7 o'clock and

worked right through to 10 o'clock, 11 o'clock in the

evening. For piecework you got paid per box. To cut

apricots you earned nine pence per box, and you know

how many apricots can go into a box. But you gained

more by doing piecework than day-work as a cutter,

canner or in the label-room.

I worked in the factory for six years in all the

different departments. Then they asked me to work as a

supervisor in the canning department. If you were a

canner you could pack trays (there were 12 cans on a

tray) and you got paid a certain amount per tray. In the

jam-room, where they boiled the can or jam, there were

these big round rings that you had to take out and put on

a tray. If there was no work in the canning department

they put me in other departments, like the jam room to

put syrup on the tins, or to the store, to label the tins, or

to put tins in the cartons or transport.

9

3

THE ‘SUBS’ STEWARD

“a fine leader to workers in all areas”

The Food and Canning Workers' Union was established

in 1941 and was open to all races. We had African

members, we had Indian members, and we had European

members. We had one committee representing ALL the

workers. When I first started working in the factory the

union had just started. I did not really show an interest in

anything, including the union. I didn't get involved with

the union from the beginning, because at first I didn’t

understand why I must join the union and what a union

is. I just knew that I had to pay my subs, and even when

there were meetings sometimes I did not want to go.

In those days the employers and the government

were very tough on anyone who tried to organize

workers. One day a woman came to the factory gate to

see someone she knew - Daphne2. She asked her about

the conditions in the factory and told Daphne that she

2 In her autobiography All my Life and All my Strength (2004), Ray

Alexander identified relatives of Rose Petersen of the Sweet

Workers’ Union as contacts who helped to provide her access to the

canning factories in Paarl. A niece worked for H Jones & Co (p.115)

and a nephew (p.118) for Associated Canners Ltd which owned the

Premium plant where Liz worked.

10

wanted to do something for the workers and asked her to

get a group of people together so that she could speak to

them. This woman was Ray Alexander. Ray went about it

very tactfully by not calling large numbers of workers

together. She met with some people at their homes and

asked them to spread the message to the other workers.

She explained how we could set up a union to fight for

better conditions.

Those were difficult times because you could not get the

workers to register, because the employer and the

government were watching you. It was very difficult to

get halls for meetings, because they really didn’t like the

union because the union is fighting for the workers’

rights. One night Ray came out but she couldn't get a

place for a meeting so she asked this comrade to drive

her and she said that she will wait for us on the bank of

the Berg River. She put on the lights in the car and she

enrolled the workers3. That is how we started our branch

in Daljosophat in 1941.

From there the union started to organize factories

in Paarl like H. Jones. The union grew from area to area.

If we organized Ashton or Montague we’ll take sub-

stewards from Paarl, sub-stewards from Wellington.

Paarl had a strong trade union in the community. The

community of Paarl was very active, even the trade

union. If you were a factory worker, you were a member

3 Ray Alexander (2004, p.118) identifies the driver/comrade as

Gregoire Boonzaier, one of the country’s leading artists and a

Communist Party member. The car was the mayor of Cape Town’s

and had been hired by an admirer of Ray’s work.

11

Ray Alexander signed up union members on the bank of

the Berg River using the lights of the mayor’s car

of the trade union, and at home you were a member of

the community. That really worked. The community also

went to the trade union for help and for advice. You

could always go and ask them to explain something.

Things improved a little once the union got

recognition. Employers could not refuse to meet us to

discuss worker issues once we were registered. From

there the union came in and negotiated agreements with

improvements every three years. I can’t say there was

complete improvement but there was some improvement.

After the union started we fought for unemployment

insurance, we fought for sick pay, for protective clothing,

for a confinement allowance. We didn’t get them all at

the same time but the fight went on. We didn’t get

everything we wanted but at least we went forward.

12

When I started to work I was shy and never

participated in union meetings, but later on I realised that

something was wrong but I could not put my finger on it.

Working in the factory and seeing injustices by

employers against workers – long hours, little pay, no

facilities, mothers having to sit and breastfeed babies in

the field, and bad treatment, shouting at the workers.

Why is it so difficult to find work? Why do we get up so

early and work till late without being shown any

appreciation? What is the problem, and how can we

overcome the problem? All this made me realize that

things are not right and workers are not getting a fair

share. Something needed to be done to give workers a

better chance.

I was always elected on deputations to the

employers. One day when we had a wages discussion I

was very cross because the employers didn’t want to give

an increase. I was fighting the bosses very hard and Ray

spoke to me and said that I must become a ‘subs’ steward

and must take more part in the negotiations. Afterwards I

was elected as ‘subs’ steward and on a shop-floor

committee that took worker problems to management. I

was 21. The duty of the ‘subs’ steward was to collect the

subscriptions from the workers every Friday after they’re

paid. You had to sit in the cloakroom and wait until the

last worker had paid their subs before you could go

home. From that time, Ray and I worked together. We

still had a working relationship after she was banned.

The white supervisors were very harsh. If you had

a problem with a worker for the first time, they watched

13

you. And once it happened a second time - you must

know there will not be a third time - the third time they

show you the door. Most of the supervisors could not

speak English but most of the people from the union who

came to meetings or discussed complaints with them

were English speaking. Whenever Ray or Becky [Lan]

went to talk to them and spoke to them in English, they

would just say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ and then run to fetch

someone who can speak a little bit of English.

Because of their attitudes you could not really

talk to the supervisors. Whenever they saw a shop-

steward they knew it was a complaint. They were not

prepared to sit down and talk to you. You had to stand

and talk to them. They would walk from one side to the

other and you had to run after them like a dog to get them

to listen to your case. That really bothered me.

One day an executive member and I took a

complaint to management and the manager said, ‘Here

you must work.’ He had this attitude that you are a slave

and you just have to work. I told him, ‘Do you think one

must work yourself to death and after three weeks you

must stay at home for six months?’ So, there was never a

good relationship between management and us. Things

were very bad then.

I always said we must unite and act so that these

problems could be solved. It is better if there is a union

that there is an agreement, because then you act in

accordance with the agreement. There is a clause in the

agreement that states that if you, as workers, do not

adhere to the agreement then the employers have the

14

right to take you to court; and you (as workers) have the

same right to take the employers to court if they don’t

adhere to the agreement.

There was a strike at the H. Jones factory in Paarl

because one of the committee members was dismissed.

During the strike Ray had to come out many times to

negotiate. The owner threw her out a few times but she

persisted and persisted. The employers hired white

workers [as scabs] but the fruit made their hands black

and the work was too much for them. After one day they

told the employers they were not prepared to work again.

Some then came to speak to the coloured workers and

discussed how difficult it was for coloured workers in the

factory. The owner then realized he was losing a lot so

they negotiated a settlement.

One day in September 1953 the union came to the

factory and told us that Ray is banned - and that is the

time that I really took an interest in the struggle as a

whole because I was thinking, why did the government

ban Ray, WHY? Ray always only tried to get a better

living for the workers, better wages and better living

conditions. I started to think that there’s something

wrong and if we don’t do something about it, many

terrible things are going to happen. I got cross and then I

really got involved in the union. From then on I always

tried to march forward and not to go backwards again or

we would not achieve anything for our workers or our

country.

In the factory the committee was mainly women

because men were not prepared to serve. It was difficult

15

for women to get involved in the union in an official

capacity because of having a family, having a house. It

was also very difficult organizing women in the 50s and

60s because they were used to staying at the home but

they realized they should be in an organization because

they have so many problems.

If women think about their burden and how

difficult it is to bring up their families on low wages and

under bad conditions they must be determined to go

forward, and join other women, and men, in the fight for

better wages to feed and build a better future for their

family. Once you join any organization you take on

responsibilities if you are determined to achieve

anything. There are three things to build on in

organisations: determination, reliability and discipline. If

we can do this we will build strong organisations and

women must never step back because we are the people

that suffer the most.

Working women must always look forward and

march forward. Even if our men don’t want to march

with us now they will at a later stage. We were fighting

difficult battles as women’s committees, and therefore

the workers had a lot of confidence in us.

Men were not very supportive initially in the

factory because they asked ‘what can women do? What

can they show us? We are men; women can’t do what we

can’t.’ Later on when men saw that women took issues to

management, even men’s problems, and even resolved

men’s problems, men realized that their role is to stand

16

together with us to improve things. Then they accepted

the women’s efforts ‘half-half’.

While I was working in the factory the union

helped other organizations in launching FEDSAW

(Federation of South African Women)4. I was elected to

represent our union and felt proud that so many women

came together to build a strong organization to bring

relief to women.

I think there was a great need to organise women

because women were much oppressed, more than men.

Not to discriminate against men, but women had a larger

challenge to face than men as mother, worker and wife.

Women have been oppressed by the government,

oppressed by the employers and some by their own

husbands.

It’s very necessary for women to be organised

and to be united, so that women can assist each other to

help them with problems. We had to work because men’s

wages were so low. And women feel the hardship more

because they are the person that keeps the family

together. It was difficult because the government always

came down with an iron hand to destroy anything that we

tried to do to improve conditions for women. But the

women went through a lot and persisted and persisted. At

a later point we demonstrated that we could get things

right through strong organization and standing together.

4 A large number of FCWU representatives were present in April

1954 at FEDSAW’s national launch, where the Women’s Charter

was adopted, a precursor to the Freedom Charter adopted at

Kliptown in 1955.

17

The regime was very harsh and once you came

into conflict with them you knew that you were going to

get it. When they banned our president, Frank Marquard,

in 1954 I could not understand why, because everything

that he had done was for the good of our people, and he

tried to improve the lives of the workers. They called a

meeting and the people, myself included, were very

angry and decided to go on strike to protest against his

banning, because we couldn’t get an answer why he was

banned. As ‘subs’-stewards we had to give the workers

strike pay because you couldn’t expect their families to

go without anything.

Frank left and he could not come near to us.

Frank played a very big role in my life, which helped me

to realise what was happening and what we were dealing

with. We then elected Christiaan Kilowan, as president.

The union struggled financially and did not have money

to pay people. I became an executive member in the

branch and then they elected me as the national treasurer.

I served on the committee and only had to step in when

there were problems. I worked on a voluntary basis until

they could afford to pay the people they have appointed

to work for them.

After Ray and Frank, another [general] secretary

by the name of Becky Lan was banned so we didn't have

anybody in the office. They came to the factory and they

asked for the workers to elect somebody. I had been

active in the Paarl branch and always helped them out in

the office when the branch secretary went on leave.

Because there was nobody, in 1956 they elected me as

18

the acting general secretary, because the general

secretary could only be elected at a national conference5.

After working in the factory for 14 years the

people were very unhappy when I had to leave, because

they saw that I was speaking for them, even though they

were wrong. Those workers realised that you are their

leader, because you are still prepared to plead their case.

5 Ray Alexander worked behind the scenes in insisting that a worker

rather than a white activist be elected to replace Becky Lan. In her

autobiography All my Life and All my Strength (2004:281) Ray, who

was still General Secretary, complimented Liz for offering “fine

leadership to workers in all areas”. She supported Liz with whom she

had worked on several occasions in negotiating piece rates because

she was “very good in pressing employers for improvements”.

19

4

LIFE AS

GENERAL SECRETARY

“running all over the country,

organizing people”

In 1947 a law had been passed for each race group to

have its own union. The Labour Department threatened

that if the unions are not going to form their own unions,

then they are going to deregister the unions. The

Coloured union was registered but the union that the

Africans belonged to was not registered. The union was

weak so we decided that we were going to try to keep the

registration, so that we can build the union6. Because if

we didn't have registration and wanted to take up the

workers' complaints, employers can say, ‘we don't need

to talk because you are a non-existent organisation, you

are not registered’.

We always said that registration's not so

important. Non-racial unity was very important because

registration is only a piece of paper. All the years we

were working together. We did not want to split, and we

6 Amendments to the Industrial Conciliation Act in 1956 forced the

FCWU to register as a Coloured union.

20

had to make a plan so that it appeared as if we were

splitting. We had one committee, not two separate

committees and we just kept two separate sets of books

in case the inspector came around to investigate. We had

two sets of books but we were mixed, Africans and

coloureds, when we went to see the employers about

complaints. Oscar Mpetha represented the Africans and I

represented the coloureds but splitting was entirely

against our policy.

When the African comrades, like Oscar, that

worked for the union were also banned they didn't have

anybody to work for them7. So I worked for both Food

and Canning and for African Food and Canning. A lot of

other unions didn't have organisers or people to work for

them. I also tried to help organising the Tin Workers'

Union so I had three unions that I was looking out for.

Then the union extended to Port Elizabeth and

Mossel Bay. I was elected general secretary, not only

doing the clerical work in the office, but also responsible

for the organizing, for negotiations, for agreements and if

there's a dispute you are the person that has to take the

lead. So it was quite a big job, but I was not alone

because whenever I went somewhere the branch

secretaries or the branch organizers accompany us.

We had a big fight for a Conciliation Board to be

set up. The coloured unions were registered but not the

African unions so whenever we had negotiations the

employers tried to lock out the Africans. The government

7 Oscar Mpetha was banned for the first time in 1959.

21

appointed a native dispute settlement officer to represent

the Africans8 but he was never in contact with them. He

did not know how the Africans were living or what their

needs were, but he was there to represent them because

they weren’t allowed to speak for themselves.

We were not prepared to negotiate without the

Africans. We didn’t negotiate directly with employers

because there were Conciliation Boards with the bosses,

the government, and some native settlement of dispute

officers. We hoped to break the system down but at a

later stage we determined not to negotiate with the

government and the native dispute officers so we spoke

to the employers to negotiate with them directly.

Things improved a lot from there, because we

understood the worker and negotiated with the employers

directly. Things became easier for the union because the

employers were much more likely to give in to worker

demands because they knew if they didn’t they were

likely to have trouble with the workers.

There was also an essential products law that said

strikes were illegal for food workers but when the

workers were determined they didn’t care about the law

and just went out on strike. In most of the cases they

won, were not prosecuted and didn’t go to jail because it

was settled directly with employers. If we had gone

through the Conciliation Board, immediately after

workers went on strike the government would step in and

workers would be prosecuted.

8 In terms of the Native Labour (Settlement of Disputes) Act of 1953

22

As a union official I had to cover a wide area

because our branches stretched as far as Port Nolloth.

Whenever there were negotiations and agreements I had

to go with some of the executive members to do the

negotiations. I did that for a long time and hoped not to

lose contact with the workers. My work was almost like

being a supervisor for all the branches. If there were

problems in a branch that they could not handle, I had to

go and help them. I had to oversee the functioning of the

branches. There was a constitution that determined how

the branches should function and every three months or

so I had to check whether the finances were handled

correctly.

You had to take care of all the negotiations,

whether it was piece work or any other work. There were

times when you could not reach agreements, because we

did not want to give in and the employers did not want to

give in. You got a mandate from the workers and if you

couldn’t go further than that level you had to stop and

come back. So that is how we negotiated all of the time.

In earlier years we made agreements for three years and

then it started to break down, so we made agreements for

shorter periods.

The union was very strong, especially on the

factory floor. The workers were united. The government

tried everything to divide the union. Lucy Ninzi and I

worked together, and at many of the factories they still

tried to divide us who were in the leadership. When we

got to a factory the employer would say, ‘Liz can come

in but not Lucy.’ We would refuse to enter the premises.

23

The committee would then discuss it and send a

delegation to meet with management. We always made a

breakthrough, and they agreed.

We had one serious problem in the union. We had

to elect other people as substitutes for the people who

were banned. It was a problem to fill these posts, because

we did not know whether we are appointing the right

people for these positions. We elected people and we

gave them posts as chairman or vice chairman but never

really explained to them what their responsibilities were.

Previously people accepted a position but did not know

how to provide leadership or which way to turn. It caused

a lot of problems and things were difficult until we sat

down with people and explained what was expected from

them. We started with the ones that we elected. We gave

them the constitution so that they could at least know

what is in the constitution. We received most of our

training from Jack Simons, Ray’s husband.

Ray was very strict. There was no such thing as

coming late. I stayed in Paarl and took the train to work

early in the morning. I had to be at the office a certain

time for our ‘early discussions’. My sister’s one son lived

with me so I had to get up to see to him. Then I had to

run otherwise I was going to miss the train. When you

were late you had to give Ray an explanation. You could

not use the train as an excuse, because you knew that you

had to take the train. That is what our people lack –

discipline and commitment. They don’t have that, and

you need that to make progress.

24

I was really committed. There was a factory in

Bellville called Spekenham. Our president, Christiaan

Kilowan, and vice-president, Johnny Mentoor, were

organising the workers when they went on strike9. I was

in bed when they visited me and told me about the strike,

and they did not want to go without me. I told them to go

and fetch the other executive members but they insisted

that I must go with them. So I went with them, they

settled the strike and from there they had to take me to

hospital where I had a miscarriage. The baby was

growing in my tube and they had to remove it. After I

recovered I went back to work.

It was always a problem to organize branches

over the weekend. You never get everyone who is

prepared to sacrifice a day. Not all members worked hard

in the union. Its not that they are not serious but its just

plain laziness, because how did others know that it’s their

duty. If you join an organization you make a commitment

because the organisation has obligations that must be

attended to.

We would take six people along when there were

three branches to visit. Since I was driving I had to go to

the place which was the furthest away, say Port Nolloth,

9 200 workers at Spekenham Food Products factory went on strike

for four weeks, demanding better working conditions and wages of

at least £1-a-Day in line with SACTU’s national demand. The

solidarity between the African and Coloured workers was a key

factor. 27 African workers were arrested and later convicted for

contravening the Native Labour Act and later four Coloured workers

were arrested for allegedly interfering with scabs trying to get to

work (New Age 10 Oct 1957 cited in Luckhart and Wall, 1980).

25

and I would drop two at Lamberts Bay and the other two

at Saldanha Bay. We usually arranged for a meeting in

advance and when I was done I used to pick them up

again. We would get to people’s houses about four in the

morning, park and wait in the car until they got up, and

then we knocked.

Lamberts Bay did not have tar roads yet, and one

day we got stuck in the sand. The gears locked and I had

to call a mechanic, because I did not know what was

going on. We were digging the car out of the sand until

somebody came to help us get the car out.

My friend Elizabeth Mafekeng wanted to meet

the workers she had organised in Tulbagh. The

employers didn’t allow us to go on the premises because

you must get their permission. I was driving and we hid

the car in the bushes until it was dark. When it was dark,

we went onto the premises and as we were going around

this corner, the foreman came around the other corner

with a knobkerrie. He threatened us and said that we

should leave the premises.

When we got back we found out that we had a

case against us for trespassing. Sam Kahn and Albie

Sachs were our lawyers and they defended us

successfully. The magistrate and the prosecutor and some

of the others went to the factory to see where we

trespassed. They saw that there was no gate; it was just a

fence. The court said that can’t be trespassing because we

didn’t open a gate. So the case against us was withdrawn.

Before I was banned I was very, very active,

running all over the country, organizing people, meeting

26

people. We had a very difficult time with the Special

Branch. The Special Branch and bosses were always

working together. Whenever you go to the factory, they

would inform the Special Branch. But we were never

intimidated by them because we knew we’ve got the right

to go to the workers, to speak to the workers. In East

London the employers and the Special Branch were

united because they didn’t want the union to operate or

workers to be organized. I had not even started to contact

workers when the Special Branch took us for questioning

and were just wasting our time.

If you wanted to go to the East London location

you had to have a permit. At the registration office you

had to get a permit, saying to whom you want to go to.

But in front of the office there was a big board – ‘No

permit to L. Abrahams’. So I could never get a permit to

get to the workers in the location. For me see the workers

they had to come out of the location, to some place where

we meet.

An Indian comrade had a hotel and gave us a

space for a meeting because we couldn't get a hall. Some

of the committees in the location informed the workers

and organised them to come to the hotel, so that we could

have a meeting. They were so determined to smash up

our meeting or to harass the workers. Wherever you

went, they followed you. One of them followed me right

up to the toilet! I was so mad; I turned round and said

‘I'm going to have you arrested under the Immorality

Act!’

27

5

PROVIDING

POLITICAL SUPPORT

“politics and unions can’t be

separated”

Politics was part of the game because I was a trade

unionist. Other activists did not have a similar belief. It

all boils down to politics, whether you like it or not. I got

involved because I worked in Cape Town and I lived in

Paarl. I travelled from Paarl to Cape Town to work every

day. Because I worked in the Cape there were a lot of

activities – CPC (Coloured People’s Congress), SACTU

(South African Congress of Trade Unions), FEDSAW –

that had been started in Cape Town and wanted to

expand. They asked me to set up branches in Paarl and in

other places when I went to visit the union braches.

Everything you established in Cape Town, you had to

establish in Paarl as well. In the beginning the

organisations in Paarl were strong but it fizzled out as

time went on.

I joined the CPC because the union wanted to

take action but it couldn’t strike and conduct campaigns

because it was registered. Through the CPC we could

28

assist the union a lot, for example if we wanted to

conduct a boycott. The CPC and ANC supported the

union a lot. If the ANC had a campaign the CPC

supported it and vice versa. The feeling was that if there

were many organisations supporting one another we

would be stronger than just one organisation.

There were always people who said you cannot

mix unions with politics and politics with unions. But as

time went on people saw that the two cannot be

separated. Because, if you’re a union member then

you’re fighting for bread and butter rights but when

you’re outside you’re fighting for your whole life to

improve. You must be a member of the community to

lend a hand if the problem is poor housing, or high rent

which also needs to be addressed. If you only improve

your bread and butter on one side and do not build on the

other side then it doesn’t help because the one side will

weaken. Today workers realize that it is also important to

belong to a political organization.

The alliance in the 1950s was the start because

the organisations were all there but it hadn’t really taken

root among the people, if we compare with nowadays.

The other problem was that people felt that one

organization could achieve more than another. It was

rather unbalanced and they did not always pull in the

same direction. The unions were relatively strong but

they didn’t always have strong relationships with the

CPC and ANC.

With the pass campaign men thought that women

are only talking and won’t be able to achieve anything

29

with this issue that had been oppressing them for so

many years. Pass laws were always a sore point for

women workers at union meetings because husbands who

had left their passes at home would be arrested and taken

directly to prison and the wife would only hear late at

night or the next morning that her husband had been

locked up.

We always argued at union meetings that passes

then were only for Africans but the other races would

suffer just as much in the future. We had a local

campaign in Paarl involving the CPC and ANC. The

branch decided to burn passes. Different people were

placed at different points where people were going to

burn their passes. My colleague, John Pendlane

(president of the AFCWU) and I were at the bus-stop at

Huguenot where people gathered to burn their passes.

Following this, different delegations went to Pretoria to

join the march. Although I didn’t participate Elizabeth

Mafekeng was our representative.

Rocky and the ‘Riots’

In 1955 there was a conference abroad and the union sent

‘Rocky’ [Elizabeth] Mafekeng to represent us. Mafekeng

worked closely with someone called Fillies in the branch.

Sometimes when he was not there, I would go and help

Rocky Mafekeng so the Special Branch often saw

Mafekeng and me together. When she came back, the

Special Branch always hunted her, but never touched her.

However, in 1959 she was banished out of Paarl.

She was the president of our union [A-FCWU] at that

30

stage and the branch secretary. They gave her a

deportation order – she was supposed to go to Vryburg10

.

Mafekeng was mother to 11 children, and had a two-

month old baby. The distance from the nearest tap to her

hut would have been 72 miles, with a baby of two

months! We established a committee to see how we

could protect her. We called meetings and explained to

the workers. We informed all the branches and the

workers were very, very disappointed and very cross. We

had published a pamphlet about why Mafekeng was

deported and this really upset the community. When they

saw it, it was the last straw.

The last meeting was a big mass meeting on a

Sunday of all the workers in Paarl, all our branches like

Wellington and Worcester, the ANC, SACTU and other

organisations. The meeting decided that Mafekeng

shouldn't go. We had to make arrangements for her to go

somewhere else. On Monday at 12 o'clock the police

were coming to pick up Mafekeng to take her to the train

station to put her onto the train to this Vryburg. The

whole night the workers were at Mafekeng's house,

waiting to see what's happening.

10

Mafekeng’s banishment came shortly after she led a large

demonstration in Paarl to protest against an official drive to issue

passes to African women in the Cape. She was to be sent to Southey,

a Bantu Affairs Department trust farm located 40 miles from

Vryburg (Blumberg 1959). The reason given for her banishment was

that her presence was 'injurious to the peace, order and good

administration [sic] of the people of the Paarl district'

31

At 12 o'clock, when the police came to fetch her,

Mafekeng was gone because we had organised transport

to take Mafekeng to Lesotho. We all were at her house

and when they arrived they could not find her so they

were very, very angry. The Special Branch came straight

to me and wanted to know where Mafekeng was. I said,

‘Listen here, how am I suppose to know?’ and he was

very, very rude. He talked a little and then he shoved me

a little, and then I would shove him a little and said just

what I wanted to say. He repeatedly came back and told

me, ‘We know that you know where Mafekeng is.’ When

the police found out that Mafekeng was gone, it was a

terrible riot. Police were shooting at the people and the

workers were so fed up they broke open the shops, and

cars were turned over. Two workers were shot dead and

others were wounded and taken to hospital. Two days

later we heard that Mafekeng had arrived in Lesotho.

Even the gangsters supported the community and

the union. There were two gangster factions - the

Elephants under Solly van Zyl and the Apaches under

Jack Kaizer. Before the Mafekeng incident they were not

involved in the trade union, but Jack and Solly knew me

very well and they were very supportive during the

Mafekeng affair, because they knew what she had done

for the community. The Mafekeng affair really touched

them and that is how they got involved in the protest.

Solly was detained for public violence during the riot.

After the riot, there was a court case with a lot of

people involved. We couldn't fit in the court; there were

too many people, so they hired a hall. Sam Kahn and

32

What do you mean the British government can have Mrs

Mafekeng? This is a fine time to become humanitarian.

(Contact, 28 November 1959).

Albie Sachs and two advocates were our lawyers. Four of

the people in the community gave evidence against us to

say that workers were throwing stones. The two Vos

brothers led evidence against us. During the case the one

brother talked himself into a corner, and was charged and

found guilty of perjury, with the result that the other

people only received warnings.

Mafekeng left only with the baby. Her mother and

her husband stayed behind with the other ten children.

Oscar, me and other comrades were elected to a

committee to look after Mafekeng's children, for

33

anything they need and whenever there were problems at

school. The children couldn't get into school so we tried

to go to the schools and speak to the teachers or

principals to allow them to get in. The organisations then

assisted with the children's education. One daughter went

away and later became an engineer and the other two

stayed behind.

While Mafekeng was in exile, her husband and

mother passed away. She wanted to come back to attend

the funerals, but the risks were too great and she had to

stay in Lesotho. We remained in touch with each other

and if the children went there for the holidays, they first

came to me so that we could discuss the problems.

In 1991 Mafekeng came back to Paarl. The union

then decided to build a house for her but it took them a

year to ask her what type of house she preferred and

where it should be built. Ray and I had to intervene for

them to get that house and had to speak to Mandla

(FAWU General Secretary) and the previous General

Secretary.

Support to Comrades

While I worked for the union, I was the Western Cape

secretary of SACTU and belonged to the CPC and

FEDSAW. Being a CPC member we were always

attending ANC meetings even if you're not a member.

When Joe Morolong11

, a union officer for the

11

Later, in 1963 Morolong was banned and restricted to his father's

kraal in an isolated area of the Northern Cape, Detshipeng Reserve

(Ken Luckhart and Brenda Wall, 1980).

34

Commercial and Distributive Workers Union in Cape

Town, wanted to go out of the country I helped hide him

and took him to Wellington station to catch the train.

In February 1963, ANC comrades asked me to do

something for four comrades that were arrested by the

police. I was told that Archie Sibeko, Chris Hani and two

others did not actually commit a crime but were caught

with duplicating ink and blank sheets of paper in the car,

and they made up a story that they were on their way to

print pamphlets. They were off on bail and decided that

they must skip12

. Archie Sibeko had been an organiser

for the FCWU and was an NEC member for SACTU. He

was also a member of the ANC Executive and was very

12

In his autobiography Freedom in our Lifetime, Archie Sibeko

explains that they were caught with the pamphlets and convicted in

1962. Their application to appeal was turned down. “Chris [Hani],

Faldon Mzonke, James Tyeku and I decided to prepare leaflets for

wide distribution…. the regime had introduced a bill providing for

heavier punishment for sabotage, and periods of up to 90 days

detention for "suspects". We needed to explain this iniquitous

legislation to the people, and.… decided to run off the leaflets one

night … packed them into Tyeku's car… [and] set off for the

townships to hand over the leaflets to branch officials for

distribution. Before we reached Nyanga East we were stopped at a

police roadblock. It was the security police, and it immediately

dawned on us that the trap was deliberate…. I had eluded them for a

long time... They immediately searched us and found the leaflets….

we were sentenced to 18 months 'imprisonment with hard labour,

and no option of a fine’… Albie Sachs was sure it was worth

appealing…. In February 1963 we were told we would not be

allowed to appeal, and our sentences were confirmed. This came

suddenly after months of silence and caught us unprepared. We had

to improvise where to hide…. we were moved and split up”.

35

involved in the writing of the Freedom Charter. Chris

Hani was very young - he was only 20 years old when he

went into exile – and did voluntary work at SACTU’s

office because SACTU didn’t have an organiser. He

assisted with organising in the office although he was not

actually involved in the unions.

We were not yet members of the ANC, because in

those days the ANC was only for Africans, but we were

made responsible for Archie and we went to fetch him

during the night. I was the one that had to see to his

safety. We were working with Oscar Mpetha, who

expected us to do ANC work because if you were a

member of something, everybody must help. He always

said, ‘When there’s a strike, all hands on deck’. I hid

Archie at our vice-president, Johnny Mentoor’s house.

Johnny did not leave him at home during the day,

because his wife and sons were not supposed to know

that Archie was on the run. If he stayed at home, they

would become suspicious.

In the morning, Johnny would take Archie with

him to the factory until the day when the other comrades

made arrangements for them to go away. Archie worked

on the ‘stove’ and made the fire so that they would think

he was one of the workers. I also hid Archie in the

Drakenstein mountains, near to the factory where our

president worked. The place where I hid him was only

five minutes walk from the nearest police station. The

funniest part, I had to take them out of hiding, take them

something like a disguise, because it was organized that

36

Archie Sibeko working on the stove at Johnny’s factory

they go to some place. The day that they left, I went to

get them from their secret places. I took Archie to

Wellington station where he got on the train. The four of

them left, and we later received feedback that they made

it safely out of the country13

.

13

Archie Sibeko (1996) relates the story in his autobiography: “My

controller was Liz Abrahams, who … was responsible for me for at

least a month. It was a risky job because had been discovered she

would have been imprisoned for long years. She moved me

frequently, mostly keeping me in farm worker compounds, but once

I was in a house in a canning factory compound, right opposite a

police station. Liz arranged for [my wife] Letitia to visit me… She

had evaded the police when coming to Paarl, but they picked up her

trail later and followed her, hoping to be led to me. When they

realised I was no longer around they detained her for months and

then expelled her from Cape Town. Liz continued to hide me until

the message came for me to proceed north. She was the last of the

Western Cape leaders to see me before I left home.

37

6

MARITAL STRUGGLE

“my husband never wanted me

to go out to meetings”

We were part of the working class, the class at the

bottom where people really struggled to better

themselves. We realised that people are people

irrespective of their race or status. I have a sister who had

a difficult life. Two of her kids were living with me. I

took the two of them and put them through school. The

one stayed with me until she got married. The other one

went back to her mother.

My family was not against politics as such, but

they did not know how to support me because they did

not understand the whole thing. My sister, Sadia, became

involved. She also worked in Daljosafat but only for a

short while. Her husband, Bryma, did not want her to be

involved in those things, because he was very nervous.

There was no one in my family who was against anything

that I have done. When they asked something, I

explained and then they listened. They supported where

they could, but they were not very involved.

When my mother started to work in the factory

she always came home and told me told me about how

38

Ray and other old comrades came to organize and how

difficult work was in the factory without the union. When

I started in the union a relative was in the Special Branch

and came to see my mother. He warned my mother to

speak to me that I must stay out because it’s dangerous.

She got mad and chased him away. She said ‘I

encouraged Liz to do these things because you aren’t

doing anything for the people and she is doing something

for the people’.

I got married just after I started working for the

union and unfortunately lost two babies very early in my

married life. I revered my husband who worked at the

municipality, cleansing branch but he was not interested

in any organization. He didn’t take part in any

organisation, so it was very difficult to get along. My

husband took no notice of anything. I really couldn't

discuss anything with him, because I knew he was not

interested and it's useless discussing things.

While I was working, going up and down, we had

problems because I’d come late and leave home early in

the morning. My husband never wanted me to go out to

meetings and whenever I came home from meetings

there were squabbles and quarrels. I said to him it was

my job.

He was never involved although I tried to get him

involved in some organisation. I asked him to join the

CPC as I was the secretary. Jimmy La Guma, who was

the president, came out to Paarl, we had a meeting, he

spoke to my husband and he joined. After the second

meeting he said ‘I’m not going any more and you’re not

39

going either’. I didn’t argue at the time and when I went

to the next meeting there was a big fight.

We had a lot of arguments, because whenever I

went away and I came back there were always problems.

He was only interested in drinking. He was just making

me miserable because he was a very heavy drinker. I felt

‘why must I give up something that I get pleasure out of

to be with a man that made me miserable and didn’t give

me pleasure because he’s always drinking?’

One year I had to fly to Durban because there

were problems in the union and I left on Christmas eve

and only got back on New Year’s day. When I came

back, he was very unhappy. You know, old people must

have a turkey at Christmas. For me if you have jam and

At Christmas Liz’s husband only had sausage while

others ate turkey

40

bread, its okay, its food. So he had to eat sausage and

bread while others were eating turkey. He said, ‘Look at

all the women and their husbands, they are all here but I

am sitting alone’. Of course, one could also understand it

in that way.

Whenever something had to be done secretly, not

even all the union members knew, as it was done illegally

and shouldn’t come to the ears of the Security Branch.

When people had to be sent out of the country I had to

discuss and plan how it should be done; but never with

my husband. He was always under the impression that I

was only just doing union work. Because he was not

interested in anything, he didn’t take notice of anything,

so I had to confide in people that were comrades.

I had an adopted daughter, and when I worked I

would take the child to my mother. He was going around

telling people that I was neglecting the child, that she

wasn’t getting food and was dirty. But my mother cooked

for me every day while I was working, and every night

there was food for him to eat. She was always doing the

washing if I didn't get a chance to wash. There were

always clean shirts and anything that he wanted was

clean. I didn't see a reason why he should complain.

At some point I felt I had enough so I asked him

for a divorce because things were getting too much for

me. I stayed with my mother while the divorce was in the

process. He became ill and his mother came to speak to

me so I agreed to try again. I told him that I was not

prepared to go on like the past and that he must make up

his mind so that I can do my work and he can do

41

whatever he wanted to do. I always said to him, ‘There

are thousands of workers out there who need me and you

are only one person. Why must I consider just one

person?’

Husbands and wives must work together; they

must help each other and understand that women have a

role to play to uplift the lives of our people in South

Africa. Women don’t just run to meetings for fun. They

go to do things and to learn things. He finally accepted

the fact that he will not be able to change me and decided

that I can continue with my work. We came to an

agreement and he started to help if I was late. We had a

child and he would take the child if he had to go

somewhere.

Later on he was a changed man. He didn't

complain about me going out and coming late. Things

improved and he stopped his aggressive behaviour

although sometimes when I came home he had locked the

door, and I had to stay outside until the next morning.

Luckily, my mother and sister were staying just around

the corner. And then it was over. He became very ill and

he died. Things were then a bit easier, because I no

longer had such big responsibilities at home. I am a

mother of two children who still work in the factory.

42

7

BEING BANNED

“I’d rather run in front of a car

than be an informer”

Every Friday I went to the factory to collect subs because

in those days there were no stop orders. I got home

Friday nights at 8.30pm after I had collected subs at the

Gants factory in the Strand. Before that I also went to

collect subs at H. Jones where they had three shifts – 6am

in the morning, 12.30 in the afternoon and then again in

the evening. One Friday night I came home and I still had

to cook. I had just put my bag down when someone

knocked on the door, and the daughter I have raised said,

‘Nanna, here are the boers’. They were also against the

boers, because they always saw them coming to me and

then we’d fight.

I told them they must come in, and they said I

must sit down. I told them, ‘No, I don’t have time to sit, I

am busy cooking.’ They said, ‘No, sit down there is

something we must read to you.’ By then I knew about

banning orders because I saw Ray’s banning order. I said,

‘No, I know it is a banning order and it is not necessary

for you to read it – I can read it myself.’ I phoned the

43

lawyer, and he arranged for it to be postponed for one

day in order for me to go and sort out things at the office.

I had been working for the union for eight years

when the banning order came in 1964 and lasted for five

years14

. I was banned in August and the national

conference was in September, and I had prepared

everything. It was very difficult so we held the

conference upstairs and I was downstairs so they could

run up and down. I was confined to Paarl area, and I

couldn’t be in a crowd of more than three people or it’d

be an illegal gathering.

I didn’t make much publicity about my banning

order; I didn’t even have my photo in the press. When I

was banned Ray didn’t even know and she was shocked.

Ray couldn't stay away when I was banned. Hymie

Barnett our union lawyer explained that she wanted to

run to Paarl. He said, ‘No you can’t run to Paarl, you’ll

see Liz the next day’. Since that time she always sent

messages to meet me and we met on a regular basis in

different places.

One day Ray couldn't get a place for us to meet

and she wanted to see me. Oscar and I walked and had to

follow her, and if she turned in we also had to turn in. So

she walked; she turned into a building and she went into

the toilets and we followed her. So there was Ray, Oscar

and me – all three in one toilet. It was a little factory

14

The banning order under the Suppression of Communism Act

confined Liz to Paarl, and prevented her from attending gatherings,

working in a factory or shop, entering African locations and from

taking part in trade union activity (Sechaba, 1(8), August 1967, p.3).

44

where European ladies were working. Of course, one of

these ladies wanted to come to the toilet, and when she

opened the door, and saw: Oooo, black, white and

brown! She shouted and ran back into the factory and we

had to get away, because we were banned. That is how

Ray and I kept contact ALL the time.

“Ooo, black, white and brown!”

The whole five years I stayed at home. I was cut

off from everything. I was just chopped off and I wasn’t

prepared not to see the workers. I couldn't speak to the

workers, I couldn't leave Paarl. Workers knew where I

stayed and whenever there were problems they used to

come and discuss them with me. I organised myself and

made contact with the workers and met them secretly. If

45

there were problems the workers came to me and we’d

make arrangements to meet. For example, while I was

banned the branch split in two [Paarl and Daljosaphat

branches].

The banning was a very, very hard time for me.

The authorities were extremely vicious. As a result of the

banning order I could not attend the baptism of my

godchild because I was not allowed to be in the company

of more than three people at a time. There was also a

family funeral I could not attend, and I had to stand on a

hill to watch the funeral. That was one of my most

difficult days.

The people from the union, family and friends

came to visit me and saw how depressed I was. The

union brought me a lot of books and other things to read

to keep me busy. I could not keep myself busy with

reading, so I kept myself busy with housework. I cleaned

my mother’s house and the houses of others because I

felt I could deal with it much better in that way than to sit

and read.

Every Monday I had to report between seven and

seven, and then they would make a note in the book of

the time that I reported. During that time I was very

dissatisfied and I did not accept anything. I was very

angry. When I went to report the young policemen were

very rude to me. One day one of them took my book,

signed it, threw it one side and it fell off the desk. The

older one got up and he touched me and said, ‘Okay.’ I

went to him, but I was so angry, and I told him, ‘I gave

the book in his hand, so why is he throwing it at me.’ We

46

started arguing and I went to the commander and told

him what happened. He apologized, said he would deal

with the officer, and showed me someone else that I had

to report to. With all those things happening I sometimes

forgot to go and report on a Monday and had to get a sick

certificate to show that I could not come in to sign.

A year before my banning order expired someone

from the Security Branch came to see me. He said he

wanted to help me and said it was unfair that I had been

banned. He wanted me to get information for them. I was

so cross that I said ‘take your things and go to

Simonstown, I don’t want to see you. I’d rather run in

front of a car than be an informer’.

47

8

BACK TO UNION WORK

“African men stood up and told the

employers that we want those

Coloured women back”

In the 1960s our union was the hardest hit of all the

unions because all our organizers, all our secretaries and

all our presidents were banned. At the time almost all our

people were banned from top to bottom because they said

that our union was a red union, we were influenced by

the communists, just because we won’t hide anything

from the workers, just because we discussed any law that

affected the workers in our meetings. Of course, the

employers didn’t like it and the government said we are a

union that is near to the Communist people.

After I was banned Freda Petersen, an executive

member, took over but she was very nervous and she

cracked when she heard that the Security Branch were

there. Then they got Johnny Mentoor, the vice president,

to take over. He kept it going but the original unity was

no longer there.

After my banning order I was not as involved as

before. When Jan Theron became general secretary in the

mid 1970s they brought him to see me and we discussed

48

union matters. Jan, his wife Althea and Virginia Engel

worked together in Cape Town. Quite a few years after

my banning order was lifted the comrades asked me to

come back to work in Cape Town again to sort out things

because there were not enough people there. Jan had

never worked in the factory, although he had experience

about the union, so they asked me to come back to assist

the union, to assist Jan.

I agreed, but at first I was very nervous because I

didn’t want to be banned again. I refused to go back to

the head office, because I was still being watched. I was

scared that they would ban me again, because it had been

so difficult. They hired a small office just above the head

office so that they could come to me. I assisted them

because all the organizers had just joined the union and

whenever they wanted to, they came over to my office. I

worked liked that until the time of the Fattis and Monis

strike. I was still working under cover but I had to come

out in the open when the strike broke out.

Strike at Fattis & Monis

The strike at Fattis & Monis in Bellville lasted for seven

months in 1979. The day the strike started Jan Theron,

was busy in George and Oscar Mpetha, the Secretary-

General of the African Food and Canning Workers

Union, was busy organising in East London. I was alone

at the head office and had to handle the strike with an

organiser from Cape Town, Virginia Engel. I was with

the workers at the meeting the night when they decided

that they’re going to strike tomorrow because five

49

Coloured women were dismissed. We met the employers

and they refused to reinstate the Coloured women. They

had fired five coloureds and the whole factory, Africans

and coloureds, came out on strike15

.

When the strike broke out I rushed to the factory

and had to get the workers to the office quickly because

the police vans were there to arrest them. The men stood

up, African men stood up and told the employers that ‘we

want those Coloured women back. If you don’t want to

take those women back, we are not going to work’. So

the unity among the workers was quite good. They didn’t

say, ‘Oh that is a Coloured, we are not going to stand

with a Coloured’, or ‘That is an African, we are not going

to stand with an African’. The workers would only go

back to work on the condition that everybody was

allowed back. The bosses were not prepared to do that,

and the negotiations continued. The negotiations broke

down, and then it started again.

We had meetings in Bellville every day. We did

not have a place to meet because the employers and the

authorities co-operated and phoned different venues and

told them not to give the venue to us for meetings. The

15

The union had demanded a minimum wage of R40 per week and

an 8-hour day. After management broke off negotiations, claiming

that the demands were 'inconsistent with government policy', the

registered ‘coloured’ union planned to apply for a Conciliation

Board hearing. Five workers who signed the application were

sacked, and another five workers were dismissed in April 1979

following protests. Workers resisted Department of Labour attempts

to split the united workers along racial lines, saying, 'We are all

workers for the same firm' (Luckhart and Wall, 1980).

50

manager of the bioscope in Bellville was very helpful and

gave us some rooms and we had meetings with the

workers nearly every day to inform them of the progress

with the employers and to keep them together otherwise

they became scabs. The workers stayed strong for a long

time, but then the children of some of the workers fell ill

and one child died. That broke their morale a little bit.

We could not afford to pay their full wages but could

only give them a little money every week to see them

through. In that way we lost some of the people, but they

still stayed together. Some organisations also gave food

parcels but it was very hard for workers to stay in the

strike.

It was not easy to keep people together for seven

months. The workers were from different areas such as

Stellenbosch, the Valley (Paarl) and the surrounding

small towns, and wherever workers lived we had a small

group who kept in contact to keep the people on the

ground informed. It is of no use for the middle layer to

know everything and on the ground they know nothing.

That is the basis from which everything else must grow.

Sometimes the morale was high but sometimes it was

low. So, we always took people from different trade

unions with us when we went to speak to workers so they

could see that they were not alone in their struggle.

When we reported back about what the employers

had said they would see there is still hope because there

were still things to be done. We always tried to keep

them in high spirits and there was never a major break

away from the strike. We had a committee that dealt with

51

all types of problems and if we were not in a position to

solve the problem, we approached other organisations for

assistance. There was also a committee that raised the

funds to help people pay their rent to prevent them from

being evicted from their homes.

Jack Tarshish, the owner of a shirt factory in

Cape Town gave us a lot of support. We had stickers to

explain the strike that we were selling in the community.

We had other fundraising efforts with which we could

pay the strikers a little something. We could never say

that we would give them R50 or R60, because as we

raised money we paid it out so that we could give

something to everybody. They could really see that the

union was trying to help them. We encouraged them and

told them that they were not alone, and that we should

continue, because if we lost they were going to be in a

weaker position. They really appreciated the fact that

other trade unions and people from communities came

together to support them.

During that seven-month period the Africans had

to go on their annual holiday, to their families at home.

The lawyers advised us not to let them go home because

it was going to infringe on the strike. So we spoke to

them, explained to them and asked if they were prepared

to stay to see how far we got with the strike. We had a lot

of support from different organisations and foreign

countries. The company even had to change the names of

some of their products to send it overseas.

The pressure became too much for the bosses, so

they called us to negotiate in order to try to settle. After

52

the strike all the people were reinstated and the Africans

went home on holiday. They got leave for that period,

and the company also provided transport, food and other

things for them to take home to their families.

Rebuilding the Paarl Branch

I assisted the other organizers with negotiating at Fattis

and Monis for four months. Then there were problems

with our branch in Paarl and they appealed to head office

to release me to assist them. I was elected as branch

secretary in Paarl and worked there until 1985.

Dienie Hartogh, who worked for the union, had

made a statement saying that she did not believe that it

was right for Africans to be chosen above coloureds.

There was a lot of unhappiness amongst the union

members in our camp because we were against

Apartheid, and what she was asking for now is

Apartheid. We had meetings and decided to call her in to

ask why she made such a statement. She denied it. The

executive were unhappy because they felt that it was a

sensitive matter. She worked for the union for a long time

and had a clique that supported her.

When she was dismissed, she was very unhappy

and formed a breakaway union. As a trade unionist, you

must act on behalf of the workers, and she had an attitude

so the members felt that they wanted to give her another

chance. We discussed it with the executive and Oscar and

I went to speak to the old members because we felt the

branch was not going to function well anymore because

she divided the branch in two. We used to have one

53

chairman, one secretary and one treasurer for the whole

of Paarl. But she divided the branch to such an extent that

the one branch now had two chairmen, two secretaries

and two of everything else, which broke the branch. We

solved the problem and managed to get the branch

together again.

While I was working in Paarl I also assisted head

office officials to organize other branches. We went to

organize workers in the dried fruit factory in Upington

for the first time and stayed there a week. On the way

back we had a tyre burst, the car rolled and I ended up in

a vineyard next to the road. I was in intensive care and

very badly injured - I had four broken ribs, a broken leg

and an injured arm. I spent 14 days in Malmesbury

Hospital. After that I worked another two years but the

injuries were getting to me. Then I retired from the union

in 1985.

54

9

POLITICS IN THE 1980s

“I had to hide them in my house for

14 days without my husband

knowing”

When Ray went into exile we corresponded regularly16

.

She arranged for me to come to Botswana twice to

collect material for the union and bring it back. Once on

the train I met the wife of Sobukwe, the leader of the

PAC. She was also on her way to Botswana to the priest

and we started to talk. There was no platform to alight

from the train – you had to jump down. No one came to

fetch me and she told me to go with her to see if she

could find someone before she went to her destination.

She stopped in front of a hotel and talked to a lady with a

bakkie and came to get me. I mentioned a name and she

took me to the man who knew that I was coming.

All the comrades who left the country were there,

and they organised many different meetings. It was

extremely hot so Ray and I would go into the mountains.

16

Before Ray went into exile in 1965 she met with Liz and spent a

day handing over the union work she had been conducting

surreptitiously and arranged a cover address so that they could

continue to maintain contact (Alexander, 2004:296).

55

We didn’t work in the day but started to work at 2 o'clock

or 3 o'clock in the morning. She would write stuff, which

I would bring back for the union.

We almost died one day, because they only had

gas stoves to prepare food and later we smelled that

something was not right. They had forgotten to turn off

the gas. They prepared strange food and did not cook the

meat thoroughly. I decided that I would prepare the food

because I felt like tender meat. I cooked it nice and

tender with vegetables and they sat down to eat. They

asked who prepared the food and ‘Why did you not cook

earlier?’ I replied, ‘I do not know your style of cooking, I

can only cook my style’. Then they ate.

When two MK17

soldiers, Vivienne Mathee and

Jaama Matakata, came back they knew that if they

experienced problems or something was wrong, they

could come to me to discuss it. I always worked in co-

operation with them and was actually the connection

between them and anything that was going to happen.

When they came back they didn't have place to go to, so I

had to hide them in my house for 14 days without my

husband knowing. I hid them in this room, and when he

went to work, I took them back into another room. When

he came back, I moved them to another place.

He never knew that there were people in the

house that shouldn’t be there. I couldn't discuss or

explain anything to him because it would have caused

17

MK is the acronym for uMkhonto we Sizwe, which was the

military wing of the African National Congress.

56

problems for me. One of the workers at the grape factory,

who passed my house every night, came to me the next

morning and said ‘Liz, I saw two Europeans sitting in the

tree watching your house’. I said it must be enemies. If it

was friends then they’d come to the house. So I had to

call on other comrades from Guguletu and our European

comrades to assist and move them.

57

10

DETENTION

WITHOUT TRIAL

“on Women’s Day we occupied

the prison’s surgery”

During the time of the UDF (United Democratic Front) I

was assisting the civic with setting up street committees,

doing house-to-house organizing one night. The next day

on 13 June 1986, while I was working in the office they

came and detained me. I was detained for almost three

months with Chantel Fortuin, Lucy Ninzi and another

small group. After that, Lizzie Phike and Maggie Wilson

and others were detained again.

We were detained in Paarl at the police station

alongside the river. It was terrible - it was in winter and it

was very, very cold. I felt so sick, because one slept on a

mat and if you turned your head, the cold air rising from

the cement floor entered your mouth as you breathed.

They interrogated me in the morning, they interrogated

me at night.

I told them my chest was sore, I did not feel right.

Then I fell ill. At night at 11 o’clock, they took me to

interrogator’s room and I couldn’t speak so they took me

58

to Paarl Hospital and we drove past our house. The

doctor who examined me knew that I was not a private

patient but a prisoner, because the police were with me.

He said that I had bronchitis, gave me medicine and we

were on our way back to the cell. The next day they

interrogated me again, but they could not hear what I was

saying because I had a tight chest because of the

bronchitis. The interrogation went on and on and on.

They did not give your medicine to you. They

kept the medicine and never brought the medicine. They

came very early every morning at 6:00 and would ask,

‘Any complaints, any complaints?’ with that harsh voice.

I complained every morning about the medicine, which I

never received. All they would then say was, ‘Yes, we

will come, we will come,’ but they never came.

One day the call came again, but this time it was a

woman. I told her, ‘You come here every morning,

wanting to know if there were complaints. How many

times did I complain? Where is my medicine?’ I told her

that my chest would not heal and that my chest was sore.

Then she went to fetch it and brought it to me. The next

day, there was someone else. I had to ask for the

medicine again and then I just didn’t bother anymore.

The Special Branch was very, very hard, trying to

show that ‘we've got the power and we’ll show you what

we can do’. Especially one security policeman, that

always hunted me in Paarl, this Daniels. He was sent to

interrogate me. He didn’t even interrogate, because we

were fighting all day. Daniels was very boastful and

59

arrogant, and the two of us could not get along at all. He

was very presumptuous.

One day he and another detective called Louw

came and leaned against the wall. He said, ‘Hey Liz, up

to now, what did the people get from you and your

struggle for the people?’ I replied, ‘I can tell you what

the people got. I started working for the union and people

earned 75c, now the people are earning more than R100.

That is what I struggled for, but tell me, what did you

struggle for? You only struggled for the oppression of

our people and even your children are suffering because

when they say oppression to all who do not have white

skins, then they oppress your child as well.’ And I said,

‘Hey, just ask me what you came here to ask me, do not

come and ask other stuff.’

He said, ‘Geez, Liz, you are so difficult. I know if

you would get the chance one day that you would take

me out.’ I said, ‘No, I will not take you out, I will take

you in and then I will get your head straightened out.

That is what I will do, because that is what you need.’ I

left him standing there and walked away, and then they

were on Lucy’s case again. With Lucy they did the same

thing, but she was not someone who talked much. They

talked, but Lucy would just stare at them.

After a week they transferred us to Pollsmoor. It

was a little bit better, I can’t really say better - at least

there were beds with sheets and blankets. The food was

very bad and we kept complaining about the food. We

decided that we were not going to eat it. Later on – after

60

fighting, fighting, then the food improved. It was this

stamped mealies and cabbages.

We were first in a big cell – thirteen of us.

Sometimes we were just mischievous. We were

despondent because we did not want to be there and we

got up to mischief. Sometimes we refused to go for our

exercise. We just sat there, covered the listening devices

and discussed what we were going to do. One evening we

decided not to go back to the holding cells at 3.30pm. I

always sat in front because I was the eldest. They came

to tell us that it was time to go back to the cells.

We sat there and said we wanted to know why we

were detained. They got very upset because they knock

off at 4 o’clock and they didn’t want to work late. They

said we must go to our cells, and when we refused they

went to fetch reinforcements. They took us one by one

and chucked us into the cells. I still refused to budge and

a short warden grabbed me. I took my elbow and hit her

on her breast – now that was painful – and she backed-off

and another one grabbed me and chucked me into the

cell. Once we were in the cell they sprayed a lot of

teargas in the cell and there was nowhere to run. We all

huddled around the taps, and wet ourselves to breathe.

Then they wanted to split us up. They removed

the young prisoners and said there was going to be an

identification parade. Then they took all of us and, after

they had seen our faces, put us in single cells. We wanted

to know why – if they wanted to identify someone, they

must have done something.

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We were very unhappy, because we wanted to

know why we were there. We wanted to know, because if

you go to prison, it must be because you have committed

a crime and you must appear in a court of law and you

must be sentenced, but we just lay there. What did we

do? They said they were waiting for the Special Branch

to come. We said, ‘Let the Special Branch come, so that

we can ask them’. But the Special Branch never came.

The next morning they asked a retired judge to

come and speak to us. We explained to the judge that we

are human beings and wanted to be treated like human

beings and receive decent treatment – not like animals.

The meeting finished and he undertook to come back and

try to see what he can do about the food. He never came

back - just promises.

While we were in detention there were many

problems within the Food and Canning Workers Union,

where Lucy and I worked. Our union was very hard hit

because many of our organizers and our secretaries were

detained. Every morning, when you woke up, you would

see a new branch secretary in gaol. When you went to the

exercise yard in the morning and the branch secretary

from Grabouw was detained. The next morning there's

another one from Saldanha Bay, and so on. When we had

discussions we never excluded anyone because we

wanted them to understand how a union works, how you

must act to build up a union. They were all interested

even if they did not belong to a union.

On 9 August - Women’s Day - we occupied the

prison's surgery as the doctor was not there and had a

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meeting. What a discussion! When we were done, we

rose and sang the anthem. The matron came and said,

‘Come, come, you had enough outings – the time is up.’

But we stood firm and sat and somebody told her, ‘You

must wait until we have finished praying and singing,

and then we will come’. So we prayed, shouted

‘amandla’ and toyi-toyied all the way to the gate. From

there we all went back to our cells.

The detention was a very emotional experience

for me. I was very depressed and because I was

emotional, I created many problems for the people

looking after us. I could not eat while I was in prison – I

don’t know if the food was not right. I don’t know what

the reasons were for me not eating. One day I got

soybeans and something else with it. When I picked it up

it started to wriggle like small worms – it was not small

worms, but it wiggled. I could not stomach it at all, and I

could not eat it.

They brought me a short brown loaf of bread with

a hole at the top, a piece of white fat and a bit of red jam.

I also could not eat that stuff and the warder said, ‘Liz,

you must eat’ and I replied, ‘I cannot eat.’ She put it at

my bed and I left it there. They returned in the afternoon

with more food and I told them I could not eat it. By then

I was angry that they kept on bringing me food and when

I saw the food it made me nauseous. I took the food and

the bread and I threw it out under the gate so that it

landed a distance away. In the late afternoon, a female

warden came and I said, ‘If your children cannot eat, then

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you will know how it feels not to get any food in your

stomach.’ I kept on refusing the food.

People could bring you money in prison. I did not

know who brought me the money, but I had money. John

Pendlane, who was detained at the prison in Worcester,

had told me, ‘Liz, if you cannot eat in prison, buy salted

fish and bread. The wardens are constantly going to the

shops, and you can send one of them.’ So I sent one of

them and then I started to eat the salted fish and bread. I

felt that my stomach was a little better. I started to eat

food, but not the strange food that they were bringing me.

If it looked strange to me, I would leave it and rather

have the fish.

The worst part of being detained is when they tell

you, ‘Get ready, pack, pack, you are going home’, and

when you have finished your packing and you think you

are going home, they take you to another prison. That is

what they did to Shenaaz Isaacs from Bonteheuwel. She

was at Pollsmoor and they came and took her. She was

all packed and we thought she was on her way home.

Normally when you are released, you would

come back to visit the others, to see how they are

keeping. We thought it strange that she did not pay us a

visit. All along she was at Wynberg police station –

alone, alone. She said that she was so afraid that they

would rape her. They tried to do it with Cecil Esau’s

sister. She was so fearful and thought they would come

when it was quiet. Eventually, there was someone whom

she met. I don’t know if she knew him from before or if

they met there for the first time. Then she was a little bit

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happier and after a while she came back to Pollsmoor.

When we opened our eyes, she stood at the gate of our

cell – and we said, ‘And now?’ She said, ‘Now they are

bringing me back.’ We did not know where she had

gone, or whether she went home and was detained again.

This put us in a state of depression, because they

told me at 6pm that evening that I should get ready to go

home. Well, you stayed ready, packed – if they told you

to go, then you do not fiddle much, you just grabbed your

bag. I sat and wondered whether this was for real. Where

to from here? They said, ‘Come, Lizzie, you must come

now’ and I went with no objections. They did not take

me to another prison. I came home, but the whole way I

was nervous because I reckoned they are going to take

me somewhere else.

My family was very depressed because they did

not know much of what was going on. When I was

detained in Paarl, before I went to Pollsmoor, they

always tried to visit me but they did not allow visitors.

They always brought things, and I could see, yes, they

still thought about me, especially Sadia. Sadia’s children

had cars but the others did not have transport. They

always brought something or would send a message.

The daughter who grew up in my house always

tried to come and visit at Pollsmoor, but she was always

depressed because they did not know when I was going

to come home. The children in the house actually felt that

if you go to prison then it was because something big has

happened, but there was never anyone who came and

explained to them that it was not so.

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When Mrs. Goosen was detained, I went to her

husband and children, because they also did not know

what to do. I told them what it meant and that they could

visit her. So this had an effect on them, and when I came

out, they wanted to know everything. Of course, I

explained to them.

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11

FROM RETIREMENT

TO PARLIAMENT

After I retired I continued to help FAWU (the Food and

Allied Workers Union) to organise farm workers in the

Noorder Paarl and Pniel branches. The employers were

so hard that they didn’t want to meet the union but the

branch committee formed a deputation to employers to

allow me to come on the premises and to help with

negotiations.

In 1990 we started the ANC branch in Paarl and I

was elected as the interim chairman. The next year, after

the conference, they elected the executive and I was re-

elected as chairman. I was the chairlady of the ANC

Women's League in Paarl but I said they should get other

women involved and we should build up their

confidence. Once they have confidence they will take the

lead. I was vice-chairlady of the ANC Women's League,

a member of the Communist Party, and assisted the

civics with problems and deputations and marches and so

on. So I was all over. I was retired but I was working

harder than when I was working for the union.

In 1995 I was elected to Parliament and served on

the labour committee. If there was a problem, or

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something happened on a farm, I could stand up and ask

for a discussion regarding the issue. Then I explained

what happened and how it happened and asked whether

we cannot find a solution. I could then ask Parliament to

take such a matter into consideration or that the law be

amended.

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12

UNIONS, THEN AND NOW

“the union can play a big role

once we go back to basics”

There is a big difference between the unions of today and

then. We built the union under very difficult conditions.

We believed in building the organisation because we saw

that it could bring about change for the workers. We went

out to organise. We never travelled by plane – we only

travelled by car. Today people earn big salaries and they

work in luxury. I don’t bear a grudge against them, but I

don’t think they have that same feeling to work for the

people like we used to have.

In the past, there were misunderstandings

between officials and committees, but it never got to a

situation where we could not deal with it or find

solutions. Compared to the problems in the past the

problems of today are much bigger. We never took

officials to court. There was a certain respect and

subservience amongst one another that is no longer there,

based on my experiences. People say things about you

without any consideration for your feelings. They don’t

care.

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In those days if the branch had a problem you

would be there to sort it out locally. We called meetings

to explain certain things and that played a big role

because people knew what to expect when they decided

to take a certain course of action. That is a role that the

union can play. They cannot say that they don’t have the

time. If the Secretary-General and Vice-President are

unavailable then the executive members can do it. They

have more time than the officials who have to run

around. That is the one thing the union must do again.

People still phone me early in the morning and

when I get home there are people waiting for me, and yet

there is a union. It is difficult for me to discuss union

matters with employers. I tell the people to go to the

union – the union is there to help them. They say they

went there and could not find the people. That is a sad

state of affairs, because you don’t know how to solve it

or how the workers will find solutions to their problems.

And there is slackness amongst the officials as well.

One of our problems today is that people get too

comfortable in their positions. Now that we have cars and

houses, we do not want to do what we did before. I am

very angry that there are people who are in positions that

could be of great value to the ANC, but because they

became complacent, they are not prepared to make any

sacrifices. Many of the things happening in the union

nowadays really hurt one. Now is the time to give your

all for the things that will benefit our people, such as

improving the conditions of workers in the factory and

improving the lives of people in general. I am still

70

struggling to understand what it is that we should do to

improve things in the future.

The union can play a big role once we go back to

basics. In many factories a lot of people still cannot read

or write, and they are usually women. A woman suffers

because she gets an income, but she knows that she must

cover a lot of things with that income. Every payday she

must rack her brains about what and how. So a woman

like that will easily latch on to something that she

believes is going to change her life. This has to be

understood within the context of change. She must

understand why there is change and what the change is

all about. Unless we explain it to her so that she

understands, she will remain in the dark.

There is change. Certain laws prohibited the trade

union from doing certain things, but today there are

major changes. There are improvements in the laws for

trade unions and in the labour sector as a whole. You can

include much more in the agreements today than in the

past. Today agreements sometimes involve the union, the

employer and the Government.

All the changes are being discussed with the

leaders of the union, and the members should understand

that change is necessary although they don’t understand

how it should be done. The union must be involved in

helping people to understand the changes that must

happen, that will be happening, and that are already

happening but it is going to take some time. If you got

used to something over a number of years it is very

difficult to change immediately. You must gradually

71

change people so that they can understand how to do

things if they want to benefit.

Organizers, secretaries, presidents should never

make empty promises to workers. Because that is the

thing that back fires very dangerously. If you can’t do a

thing, you must tell them. Don’t give them false hope

that I’m going to get things right for you. That is a thing

that I learned in the unions. It backfires and then it's

difficult to get that confidence from people again.

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13

IN CONCLUSION

“the hardship of the workers

made me determined never to give up”

When we first went to Hondeklipbaai and Doringbaai the

workers were suffering. People in the fishing industry

only work for 4 months of the year. They sometimes

have only one meal a day. There were no schools, no

hospitals, and no doctors. The hardship of the workers

made me determined never to give up. The only thing I

wanted to do was to assist and to get people a better life,

because they are entitled to a better life. They are human

beings. That made me so determined, because our people

are really suffering a lot.

There was never a moment in my life that I said,

‘No, it’s too much - I’m going to give up’. I feel that I

have contributed something, because there are some good

things that came out because of our fight – not only me,

but also the people with whom I have worked. Of course,

the sacrifices were there but I must admit that the burden

was not too heavy. If I had to do it all over again to

improve people’s lives, I would do it – from A to Z.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

Alexander Simons, Ray. 2004. All my Life and All my

Strength. Edited by Raymond Suttner. STE Publishers,

Johannesburg.

Berger, Iris. 1992. Threads of Solidarity: Women in

South African Industry, 1900-1980. Indiana University

Press, Bloomington.

Blumberg, Myrna. 1959. “The Lonely Exile of Elizabeth

Mafekeng”, Contact, 2(23), 14 November

Luckhart, Ken and Brenda Wall, 1980, Organise or

Starve: The History of the South African Congress of

Trade Unions. Lawrence and Wishart, London.

MacLean, Barbara. 2004. “Lizzie Abrahams” in Strike a

Woman, Strike a Rock: Fighting for Freedom in South

Africa. Africa World Pres, Trenton, N.J.

New Era. 1987. “Nanna Leads the Workers: 47 Fighting

Years”, New Era, June, p.27-28.

Parker, Cassandra. 1992. Interviews with Liz Abrahams

and Elizabeth Mafekeng in Paarl for Women in the

Struggle:A Preview. Courtesy Wecheselmann/Mayibuye

Centre, University of the Western Cape.

Sibeko, Archie. 1996. Freedom in our Lifetime.

Indicator Press, Durban.