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‘Why didn’t he just say he was a member of the ANC or MK? They had quite a lot of white members,’ Thys said as they waited for their hamburgers and chips at the Wimpy down the road from the Cathedral.
Mr Venter took a sip of his coffee before responding: ‘The ANC and MK kept pretty good records. Throughout these hearings, many applicants have claimed to have been carrying out MK orders when committing so-called human rights atrocities, or just plain old criminal activities. Most have been caught out when they were unable to prove their MK membership. APLA was – and remains – more obscure and less organised. So Mr Strydom – and I have no doubt his fellow applicants – probably thought it would be prudent to claim affiliation to that organisation.’
‘Why would they lie about it? What possible difference would it make? They killed Annamari’s family – that’s murder, plain and simple. That’s why the court in Bloemfontein sentenced Smit to life.’
The waitress arrived with their food. Mr Venter waited until she had put the plates down and left before answering. ‘In order to be granted amnesty for a specific crime – a killing, a bombing – even, in some instances theft and fraud,’ he said, sprinkling vinegar onto his chips, ‘the applicant has to meet fairly strict criteria, the most important of which is the fact that the actions in question must have had a clear political objective and were not merely criminal in nature, or motivated by revenge.’ He cut through his hamburger, put a piece in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“I have found that the most obvious – and common – tactic during amnesty hearings is for the applicants to claim that the events for which they are applying for amnesty were effected on behalf of one of the liberation movements. In this case Mr Strydom has opted for APLA. It will be interesting to see what line Mr Naidoo takes for the co-applicants.’
***
Mr Yusif Naidoo rose to his feet and hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.
‘Please,’ Annamari begged silently, ‘tell the truth. Tell me what really happened that night. Tell me why my family was murdered.’
‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane,’ Mr Naidoo intoned sonorously in a strong Chatsworth accent, ‘are applying for amnesty on two separate counts. One, of course as my charming colleague has related, relates to the incident at Steynspruit Farm on the night of 15 to 16 June, 1989. Like their fellow applicant Mr Strydom, my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were charged and found guilty on three counts of murder relating to this incident. They were sentenced to life imprisonment. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, are currently serving their sentences at Pretoria Central Prison. However, before I deal with this most unfortunate incident, I must – with your indulgence, Mr Chairman – I would like to deal with the second application that has been brought before this honourable Commission by my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane.’
‘Is that really necessary? Wouldn’t it make more sense to finish with the Steynspruit incident and then to move on to the second application?’ Tutu-two asked.
‘Not at all, Mr Chairman. Not at all. The two incidents are intimately related as shall quickly become apparent.’
‘Well then, please proceed, Mr Naidoo.’
Mr Naidoo flashed a gleaming smile at Tutu-two, and glanced fleetingly at some papers on the table in front of him. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, are applying for amnesty for their indirect involvement in an incident on a farm – a very small farm, fittingly described as a smallholding – located some 10 kilometres west of Warmbaths. This incident took place on the evening of the fifth of May in 1983.’
Annamari stifled a shocked laugh. She glanced at Thys. He looked as stunned as she felt. Stefan Smit half rose to his feet, and then shrivelled back onto his chair, his fringe a grey curtain over his eyes. He leaned over and whispered frantically in his lawyer’s ear. Afrikaans Ally jerked her head away and brushed at her sleeve.
‘In this incident, a white woman, one Wilhelmina Botha and her thirteen-year-old daughter, Sara Botha, were shot and sadly died at the scene. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, have applied for amnesty for their very, very peripheral role in the events leading to the deaths of Mrs Botha and Sara Botha. I must inform the Committee that neither Mr Buya nor Mr Xlongwane has been charged with any offence relating to these deaths and may not be, but they have applied for amnesty in the spirit of reconciliation and in order to ensure that truth, the whole truth, shall prevail.’
Afrikaans Ally tottered to her feet. ‘Mr Chairman,’ she appealed, ‘this incident took place hundreds of kilometres away from the incident for which all three applicants have applied for amnesty. The one has nothing to do with the other; nor for that matter is it of any concern to my client. Can we please finish the original application so that we can...so that my client can... so that we can just finish what we started this morning, otherwise we will have to come back tomorrow.’
‘Guess who hasn’t been properly briefed,’ Thys whispered. Annamari just nodded, too stunned to respond. She glanced at Mr Venter, who was staring at them, eyebrows raised. Thys gave him a discrete thumbs-up.
Mr Venter jumped to his feet. ‘Mr Chairman, I have no objection to the application for the two incidents being heard simultaneously. Indeed, my clients – and I – are extremely curious to find out more about this other incident.’
‘I agree, Mr Venter. Proceed please, Mr Naidoo,’ Tutu-two said.
Afrikaans Ally slumped back into her chair and resumed her examination of her nails. Stefan Smit glanced furtively at Annamari and Thys, and looked away. Mr Naidoo picked up his papers, and resumed.
‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, were born, raised and grew up together in King William’s Town in the Eastern Cape. Well, not King William’s Town itself, obviously, that being in the apartheid era and all. In Ginsberg, a township next to King William’s Town – the black township, of course. Yes. Well. Anyway. In September 1977, when they – my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane. When they were just eighteen years old, Mr Steve Biko – who also hailed from Ginsberg, the township you know – well, Mr Biko was brutally murdered by the South African Police while he was in their custody.’
‘Who’s Steve Biko? What’s he got to do with all this?’ Annamari whispered.
Thys shrugged.
‘I must inform the honourable committee, and you Mr Chairman, that Mr Biko’s horrifying death had a most enormous impact on my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani. A most, most enormous impact. Shortly thereafter they – my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani– joined the PAC and fled South Africa. They were just eighteen years old and they were sent to Tanzania where they underwent military training. Rigorous military training. Most rigorous. Over the next few years, my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, became most seasoned APLA cadres. Most seasoned and brave. They returned to South Africa several times over the years to carry out various missions, very dangerous, very important. They were very brave. Very very brave. They were risking their lives to free those of us who were still in chains as it were. You do understand, Mr Chairman.’
‘Yes, Mr Naidoo. Please proceed,’ Tutu-two said.
‘In 1973, while my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, were both in Mamelodi Township – that’s a township just outside Pretoria, Mr Chairman. Perhaps you know it? Yes, there were my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, preparing for another dangerous APLA mission, when they heard about a white man who had a strange, a most strange proposal for APLA. That’s when my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwane, met the co-applicant, Mr Stefanus Strydom for the first time.’
Stefan Smit stared at the table top. Afrikaans Ally looked up briefly, and then carried on looking at her long, red nails. Annamari looked back at Mr Naidoo. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, had heard that Mr Strydom was urgently looking for someone to carry out a “terrorist attack” on a farm near Warmbaths.’
‘That’s a lie. That’s a fucking lie,’ Stefan Smit snarled.
Mr Naidoo ignored him. ‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, were naturally and obviously most curious about this very unusual request and arranged to meet Mr Strydom that same day. Mr Strydom offered my clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, R500 to attack this farm which, he told them, was his very own farm.’
Annamari closed her mouth and squeezed Thys’ hand. Thys squeezed back. Stefan Smit slouched in his chair and ran his dirty forefinger over his lips.
‘My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, discussed their meeting with Mr Strydom with their APLA comrades. Most obviously, they were very, very concerned that it was a trap. So they told Mr Strydom that no, they most definitely could not do what he, Mr Strydom, had requested and Mr Strydom said because it was so urgent, he would carry out the “attack” himself but he would most obviously need a “terrorist” weapon to do so. My clients, Mr Buya and Mr Xlongwani, therefore supplied Mr Strydom with an old AK47 for which Mr Strydom paid one thousand Rand in cash.’
‘Are you fucking crazy? I never bought an AK47. I never met your fucking clients back then... You are lying,’ Stefan Smit screamed.
Afrikaner Ally tottered to her feet, objecting and shrieking that she was being blindsided and demanding an adjournment to confer with her client. Tutu-two granted a short adjournment.