The last weeks I’ve been posting pictures on my photoblog
A Farmer’s Child’s Tales from my trip to South Africa. The last two of those pictures is from Shobashobane and now I will tell some more about what happened there 25th of December 1995.
It was our third day in SA, everything was still a little overwhelming – but we were starting to adjust. Some of us was out on the sea fishing for shark (!) The rest of us had a busy day of visiting several places and people. One of those places was Shobashobane and one of these people was he (sorry don’t know his name) who stood in front of us and told the story.
Sobashobane belonged to a greater area called Izingolweni. The area is controlled by a Chief and divided into 8 areas, Shobashobane is one of those. The people lived thogether peacefully until the peak of the violence in early 90’s. Then some ofthe people joined the Inkata party others became followers of Nelson Mandela and NCA. The majority of the people in the great area belonged to Inkata, but in Shobashobane there was a majority of NCA supporters. The Chief saw this as a problem for the area, he wanted the all to stand together – not fight each other! So he demanded that the NCA supporters should leave Shobashobane; if he needed he would use force to move them.
The NCA supporters, mostly the young people in the village, refused to move. But after several armed attack, many of the non-political villagers left the area.
Then it happened, on the night before Christmas-day, they came in great number; maybe a thousand. They wanted to get rid of the NCA-people once and for all. When they left, 19 people were dead, many more was hurt and a lot of the houses was burnt down.
He lost his daughter, she was only 17. He speaks low and touches us deeply with his story. Together we travel to a graveyard where they are buried. It is not common with graveyards in SA, but they decided to have one place to go with sorrow and loss, and one place to remember. A memory board is placed near, with the name and age of all who got murdered.
He showed us her name: Nyawose Phindle. He showed us her grave. Then we sang together a song of hope in Jesus and heaven. In our Norwegian word and on his zulu melody.
Since the incident there has been much work done in the area of the diaconial institution: Practical Ministries. When we was there they were in the work of building a community-house; trying to bring the people back together. So such a tragedy never will happen again.