some vamping up.
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MY FATHER WAS A disciplinarian. It was a badge he carried with honour. I often meet his former students â those he taught at Roma College, as the National University of Lesotho was called in the late 1940s; at St John Berchmans Catholic School in Orlando East, Soweto; and the boys and girls, now of course old men and women, of St Teresa. They are always excited to meet APâs son, and gush how they learnt a lot about English literature from him. Some talk about his love of music, and how he conducted mass choirs; others remember how he initiated them into the politics of the ANC, and later of the Pan Africanists. Those he taught at St John Berchmans bring yet another side of him that has to do with soccer. They remember how the present-day Orlando Pirates, one of the leading professional teams in South Africa, was started by his students who gave the team that name because they were reading Treasure Island in his literature class. So you see, all these folks revere my father for different reasons. But one thing that they all remember is that AP was a disciplinarian.
The nuns at St Teresa admired him for that reason too. One of the
documents in the photo album that makes me sneeze because of the dust mites that have accumulated in it over the decades is a testimonial written by Sister Eusebia, the principal, when my father left the school:
To whom it may concern: This is to certify that Mr Ashby Peter Solomzi Mda has been employed as assistant teacher at St. Teresaâs Native Secondary School from January 1948 till June 1955. Mr Mda has done excellent work as a teacher and educator. He is a man of good character, of outstanding ability, honest, painstaking and self-sacrificing in his duty to a high degree. He is a very good disciplinarian and a first class choir master. In him the school loses a teacher hard to replace.
âAP does not suffer fools gladly,â people said, and they made a point of choosing their words very carefully when they spoke to him. Which explains why we chuckled uneasily at his jokes even when he was all smiles and laughter.
He would call us around the kitchen table, all five of us kids (me, the twins Sonwabo and Monwabisi, our sister Thami and our baby brother Zwelakhe, even though the latter was only six years old), my mother and the âmother who looked after usâ (a euphemism for a maid and nanny). He would then tell us about the liberation struggle. He would sing for us in his mellow tenor: USobukwe ufunâamajoni, ufunâamajoni, ufunâamajoni enkululeko . Imikhosi yenkululeko, yenkululeko, yenkululeko. Sobukwe needs soldiers, he needs soldiers, he needs soldiers to fight for freedom. Armies of liberation, of liberation, of liberation.
I saw myself as one of those soldiers. I would one day go out to fight for freedom.
We knew all about Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe. Pan Africanist leaders like John Nyathi Pokela, who was from Hohobeng, a village near our Qoboshane, spoke about him all the time when he visited. He was the president of the Pan Africanist Congress of Azania, known as the PAC for short, a party that broke away from the African National Congress in 1959. My father was regarded as the âfounding spiritâ of the PAC, though initially he was not in favour of the breakaway. He believed
that the Africanist group should change the ideological direction of the ANC from within. But in the end the young militants who opposed the ANC Freedom Charter â particularly clauses in it that declared that the land in South Africa belonged to all those who live on it â won the day and walked out of the mother organisation.
At the round-table family meetings that my father called to analyse the state of the struggle he emphasised that the PAC had his full support. He outlined to us his philosophy of African Nationalism which he formulated in his famous debates with his friend and roommate Anton Lembede, and which he
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MY FATHER WAS A disciplinarian. It was a badge he carried with honour. I often meet his former students â those he taught at Roma College, as the National University of Lesotho was called in the late 1940s; at St John Berchmans Catholic School in Orlando East, Soweto; and the boys and girls, now of course old men and women, of St Teresa. They are always excited to meet APâs son, and gush how they learnt a lot about English literature from him. Some talk about his love of music, and how he conducted mass choirs; others remember how he initiated them into the politics of the ANC, and later of the Pan Africanists. Those he taught at St John Berchmans bring yet another side of him that has to do with soccer. They remember how the present-day Orlando Pirates, one of the leading professional teams in South Africa, was started by his students who gave the team that name because they were reading Treasure Island in his literature class. So you see, all these folks revere my father for different reasons. But one thing that they all remember is that AP was a disciplinarian.
The nuns at St Teresa admired him for that reason too. One of the
documents in the photo album that makes me sneeze because of the dust mites that have accumulated in it over the decades is a testimonial written by Sister Eusebia, the principal, when my father left the school:
To whom it may concern: This is to certify that Mr Ashby Peter Solomzi Mda has been employed as assistant teacher at St. Teresaâs Native Secondary School from January 1948 till June 1955. Mr Mda has done excellent work as a teacher and educator. He is a man of good character, of outstanding ability, honest, painstaking and self-sacrificing in his duty to a high degree. He is a very good disciplinarian and a first class choir master. In him the school loses a teacher hard to replace.
âAP does not suffer fools gladly,â people said, and they made a point of choosing their words very carefully when they spoke to him. Which explains why we chuckled uneasily at his jokes even when he was all smiles and laughter.
He would call us around the kitchen table, all five of us kids (me, the twins Sonwabo and Monwabisi, our sister Thami and our baby brother Zwelakhe, even though the latter was only six years old), my mother and the âmother who looked after usâ (a euphemism for a maid and nanny). He would then tell us about the liberation struggle. He would sing for us in his mellow tenor: USobukwe ufunâamajoni, ufunâamajoni, ufunâamajoni enkululeko . Imikhosi yenkululeko, yenkululeko, yenkululeko. Sobukwe needs soldiers, he needs soldiers, he needs soldiers to fight for freedom. Armies of liberation, of liberation, of liberation.
I saw myself as one of those soldiers. I would one day go out to fight for freedom.
We knew all about Robert Mangaliso Sobukwe. Pan Africanist leaders like John Nyathi Pokela, who was from Hohobeng, a village near our Qoboshane, spoke about him all the time when he visited. He was the president of the Pan Africanist Congress of Azania, known as the PAC for short, a party that broke away from the African National Congress in 1959. My father was regarded as the âfounding spiritâ of the PAC, though initially he was not in favour of the breakaway. He believed
that the Africanist group should change the ideological direction of the ANC from within. But in the end the young militants who opposed the ANC Freedom Charter â particularly clauses in it that declared that the land in South Africa belonged to all those who live on it â won the day and walked out of the mother organisation.
At the round-table family meetings that my father called to analyse the state of the struggle he emphasised that the PAC had his full support. He outlined to us his philosophy of African Nationalism which he formulated in his famous debates with his friend and roommate Anton Lembede, and which he
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