robbing those weaker than themselves. Now we needed passes to travel through that beautiful country, to visit relatives and friends, to get material from the woods to build our homes and to hunt game.
Shortly after crossing the river on the border my eye was caught by the Majubas, the steep hills I has seen on several occassions before on my way to and from Durban. This time I remembered that this was the historic battlefield on which the inctepid Afrikaner once stoutly defended his independence and shook British imperialism. Was it the same Afrikaner who fought so tenaciously for his own freedom who had now become such a tyrant and who was persecuting us? I once wondered whether history knew any people as oppressive and cruel as the Afrikaner who could shoot down human beings as they did, work them to death on the potato farms of Bethal and treat them worse than animals. Later I came to discover, as many others did, that the Spaniards and Portugese, the English, Dutch, French, Belgians, Germans, Italians and Americans in fact all imperialist had done worse things than these. As for myself, twice he had locked me up and twice he had restricted me to
Johannesburg and prevented me from attending meetings merely for demanding in 1952 and by non violent and peaceful means what he fought for through armed force seventy one years ago. With all the multiplicity of humiliations and frustration I has suffered and the opportunities that were closed to me, I was bitter and felt even more strongly now that
South African whites neede another Isandhlwana.
I remembered that I was on leave and pulled myself together and forgot about the problem of